


if i should return

by SineadRivka



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Birth, F/F, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Pregnancy, Serious Injuries, Surrogate Pregnancy, T'Pring is a bitch, Twins, change of plans, injuries, possible sexual content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8163932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SineadRivka/pseuds/SineadRivka
Summary: When the door slid shut between them, it felt as if the Enterprise herself had shifted out from under Spock’s feet. Dark eyes slid to the ground, stared at his perfectly-regulation boots, to the perfectly-clean decking, along the perfectly-curved hallway. This was illogical, to feel this level of devastation. ... Closing his eyes, Spock found his voice as a whisper. “The Pre-Reform poets spoke of a pain that was less than that of a lost bond, but only incrementally. It is as if a part of my soul has been torn from my side. I have only felt worse sorrow twice before in my life.” 

  Jim didn’t ask what those times were. His throat closed up against the swell of his own emotions. Vulcan. The warp core. “I wish I knew what to say to help you, Spock.”
During shore leave to help Spock and Nyota get over the breakup with their separate groups of friends, The Enterprise is recalled to Earth on a milk-run to escort dignitaries back to their home planet. Of course, this detours into a rescue mission. Kirk begins to have the feeling that his Captaincy will soon be listed under the definition of Murphy's Law.





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from a song by Marcus Warner on his “Liberation” album.

~*~

When the door slid shut between them, it felt as if the Enterprise herself had shifted out from under Spock’s feet. Dark eyes slid to the ground, stared at his perfectly-regulation boots, to the perfectly-clean decking, along the perfectly-curved hallway. This was illogical, to feel this level of devastation. Clearly . . . clearly he needed meditation. But he was due back on shift in the labs. This had been the humans’ meal break, made late into the shift to accommodate eating with friends who were off-shift.

But his mind was . . . cluttered. Confused. 

_Human_ emotions, made far more volatile by Vulcan emotional depths, swirled through his mind and body. 

Spock raised his head and began walking towards the labs.

~*~

“Captain.”

James T. Kirk “hmmed” absently at his Yeoman, engrossed in the report from Engineering after their last dock overhaul six months ago. Scotty was requesting more time at Starbase 3 to do _something_ that didn’t sound like it obeyed the laws of physics. In his Chief Engineer’s mind, those laws were theories and suggestions. This didn’t look like it would work, but there was the chance that it could function as an emergency-reboot of a system, something that would prevent another disaster like what had killed Jim. 

“Captain.” 

“Yes, Rand?” 

Scotty was dealing with Kirk’s temporary death in the only way he knew how to: make it so that what had happened, a core out of alignment, could be rectified without direct human intervention. He tapped at the screen again, flicking through a diagnostic and several diagrams. Could his ship _handle_ these upgrades? Dilithium was an expensive commodity, and this could possibly drain several “backup” crystals that could better be used as what they were intended for. Having a backup core was cumbersome. There had to be a way around it. 

“ _Captain_. Commander Spock did not report to the labs two hours ago.” 

The bridge froze, Kirk blinking up at Yeoman Rand. His eyes flicked over to Uhura, who stared resolutely at her station with rigid shoulders. Shit. They were fighting again. And this time, it looked like it was a _bad_ one. “Acknowledged.” 

She gave him a _look_. The same look that she had learned from a certain Commander Kirk on another ship. Jim sighed internally, ruing the coincidence of their ships being at the same place at the same time. Hell. Bones had a field day when Winona had beamed over and spent a couple days with Jim and the Enterprise. Spock had realized where a lot of Jim’s behaviors originated. Uhura saw how broken her Captain’s past had been, and understood his drive to create the Enterprise into the family that they had become over this first year of their five-year mission. And Engineering simply hadn’t been the same since she and Scotty had holed themselves up for a full twelve hours, alternating between trading theories and trying to drink each other under the table. Winona won. Scotty refuses to say what had been wagered, but turned as red as his shirt whenever questioned. 

Kirk handing Rand his PADD and stood. “Fine. I’ll stop reading Scotty’s science fiction. Sulu, you have the con; I’m going to find my First Officer. Rand, with me.” 

Once on the turbolift and away from angry communications officers and prying eyes, Jim rubbed at his face. “Jesus _fuck_ , it would be a hell of a lot easier to run this ship without those two fighting all the goddamn time.” 

Janice snorted, swatting at his arm as he rubbed at a particular spot again. “Stop touching it or I’ll tell McCoy that you’re irritating the scar.” 

“You’re cruel.” 

“Your mother loves me.” 

“That’s part of the problem. I need you to go to my quarters and prep for me.” 

“What are we going for?” 

“Comfort food. Something that’ll keep warm for a while. Pull out all the stops. Just no alcohol or chocolate.” 

“You’re a good man, Captain.” 

He half-shrugged. If he was half as good as everyone thought he was, he wouldn’t be single for as long as he was. “He’s one of my best friends; if he and his girl are having issues, I’ve gotta _do_ something. I know that you and Uhura are bosom buddies, and this puts you in an awkward place to be helping me.” 

“Oh, we’re going over _this_ again?” Janice stepped off of the lift with Jim, her voice soft but firm as she paced beside him. “Don’t you even _begin_ to try to feel like you’re guilting me into helping you. Once Uhura and I are off-shift, I’ll be taking care of _her_. Carol and Christine and I made plans. Besides, I know that you count Uhura as close a friend as you do Spock.” 

“Almost as close. She doesn't trust me the same way that Spock trusts me, but I get that. So I just try to treat them both fairly. I take it that you already know what’s going on?” 

“No, but we _think_ that this is the end of it. Ny got really pissed at Spock last week and was going to talk to him sometime this week.” 

“Wait. Last week was the Vulcan memorial service. Why would she be mad at him? He wasn't acting out of character.” 

“She thought that he needed comforting and needed to express his grief. He rebuffed her at every moment, even privately. And she got mad at him because the only person who Spock allows to see his full range of emotions is _you_.” 

“Because I pretty much force him into it. It’s a challenge for him to experience the emotions without losing control of them, and he knows that in a fair fight, the only thing he has over me is speed and brute strength.” 

“The point is, he feels _safe_ with you to do those things.” 

Kirk stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to the Yeoman, blue eyes glacial. “The conversation stops here. We can discuss more in private later.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Shift ends in a half hour. See if you can get Marcus and Chapel out early from Engineering and Medical to get your plan started. I need my command team at their best, which is part of my duties to see to _their_ wellbeing. Use the rest of your shift to get everything ready.” 

“We’re docking tonight, correct?” 

“Yeah, during Gamma shift. Starting Alpha tomorrow, we'll be disembarking. Forward the shore leave applications to me when you get the chance. You have verbal approval for yourself and the other three to spend leave on base for two nights. Written will be needed for anything more than that.” 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, Captain.” 

“You’re welcome. Just let me know where you’re going to be so that we don’t cross squads.” He turned and began walking down the hallway, grinning at Rand’s parting sass. 

“Get with the fucking times, Jimmy. It’s called a _pack_ , now. Shit.”

~*~

In the end, Jim found Spock tucked in among Sulu’s garden. It was long past the end of their shift. _Enterprise_ was docked with Starbase 3, and Engineering was a hive of activity to prepare for a minor overhaul before their leave. The observation decks were all taken by people who wanted to capture the view to send back to loved ones. Otherwise, he had a feeling that Spock would have been curled into a nook at one end of one of the viewports.

He didn’t say anything to his First Officer. Just came up beside the Vulcan and settled upon the red sand and dirt of one particular corner. Despite everyone’s continued assumption that Kirk couldn’t keep still to save his life, death had helped him learn to slow down. He hated sleeping. Brought nightmares. But when he had been suffering through a particularly bad night shortly after the _Enterprise_ had left Earth on her mission, he had been found sitting in his boxer-briefs and an undershirt in the head, leaning against the cool tiles, tear tracks on his face while he tried to get through some reports to distract his mind. He could still taste bile, but hadn't moved to brush his teeth. 

Spock had looked down at him, Vulcan stillness taking in the scene. And then took the PADD from numb fingers, hauling his Captain up to his feet and into the too-warm quarters that ached with incense. Jim found himself draped with a heavy robe that somehow didn’t stifle him, smother him, or add to the heat of the room. The weight grounded him, and for the first time in weeks, maybe months, maybe even _years_ , he felt something in his mind _wake up_. 

And Spock lit incense, facing him and showing him how to sit, dark eyes calm in the chaos of Jim’s mind while he was guided through a simple meditation that Jim later found out had been Amanda Grayson’s go-to when she needed to center herself. He didn’t think too hard about why Spock felt comfortable sharing this with him, _couldn’t_ let himself think too hard about it. Jim felt like he was a migrant planet, spinning around three suns: Bones, the _Enterprise_ , and Spock. And if he faced rejection from any of those three . . . he wasn't sure what he would do. 

So he settled himself onto red dirt into a precise kneel, movements measured and his mind automatically calmed with the physical cues of kneeling and settling down beside a Vulcan. He didn’t enter into a full meditative state, which was something he had only recently been able to achieve. There’d been many strong emotions along the journey to get to that point. Spock had the patience of a saint during those outbursts. 

But he was here to wait until Spock was ready to talk. So he sent himself into the soothing halfway point that he would often find himself slipping into when they were travelling a long distance, nothing but stars to fill his vision. 

He heard a rustle, a shift. 

“Captain.” 

“Commander,” he murmured in return, pulling himself back into his body and sighing. The gentle scent of plomeek blooms against spice trees and the smell of wet soil made him feel almost like he was back on Earth again, in a Vulcan greenhouse. 

“I wish for solitude.” 

“If you can give me a good reason why I should leave you alone, I’ll honor your request.” 

Silence. After almost five minutes, Spock spoke barely above a whisper. “Lieutenant Uhura and I have ended our relationship. I wish to be left alone to meditate.” 

“You meditate best in your quarters.” 

“I . . . I cannot.” 

“Too many memories?” 

“Emotions.” 

“Lack of control in the face of an unsuccessful relationship, Mister Spock?” 

The Vulcan was unable to stifle his growl, and Jim finally looked at his friend, his First Officer. He met the blazing anger with his own peace. Their roles were reversed. Wasn’t often that _that_ happened. Jim stood and stretched his back before carefully brushing the dirt off of his pants and shoes. It wasn’t Vulcan dirt, but he always treated it as precious. “Then don’t go back to your quarters.” He made eye-contact again. “Come to mine, eat dinner, and I’ll take the couch. I can grab your meditation setup, a spare set of whatever you need, and you can stay with me tonight.” 

“It would appear as if I was simply trading lovers.” 

Jim felt his gut twist in want and raw _need_. Would that they _were_ lovers. “Well, we’ve never been lovers, so I don’t know where anyone would be coming up with _that_ assumption, Spock. You’re one of my two best friends; I can’t sit by and watch you struggle through heartbreak alone. I know you’re trying to control your emotions, I _get_ that, and I want to help you. But you’re human, as much as you live as a Vulcan. And humans work together to get through our emotions, just like you helped me.” 

“And how do you propose to help me?” 

“Feed you. Shove you into the shower. Let you meditate. Get you into bed. And then bring you on a couple nights on leave with myself and Bones, who has promised not to be an ass about the breakup.” 

“You knew we had ended our relationship.” 

“It wasn’t exactly subtle to me or Yeoman Rand. She and a couple other ladies are stealing Uhura away for their leave. And you won’t have to see Uhura. I promise. Rand and I can make sure of that.” 

“You did not mention the possibility of inebriation.” 

“That’s more my pace to get sloshed after a bad day, not yours. You want chocolate, though, I’m paying for it.” Kirk waited a breath and a couple of heartbeats before asking softly, “Please don’t think that I’m pushing your Vulcan side away, Spock. I’m talking to both the Vulcan and the human in you. If you want, I can sleep in your quarters if you need the silence and the space tonight.” 

Rising with a grace that indicated his physical prowess (and damn if Kirk didn’t get off to the thought of Spock going all pre-Reform on him), Spock brushed himself off. “I will give your method a trial period.” 

As soon as they entered Kirk’s quarters, though, Spock was convinced that his Captain knew him better than he gave him credit for. Two covered dishes were upon the table where they often played chess, labeled to prevent any mix-ups. Spock turned to look at Jim, who smiled and waved him towards a seat. “I’ll get your things. Sit. Eat.” 

When the younger man disappeared beyond a door, Spock moved to the table. He knew the smell. He could almost _taste_ it. And when he sat and pulled the cover off, he felt something in his heart break all over again. Kreyla bread, freshly baked. Plomeek soup still steaming. They _smelled_ right. This wasn’t replicated. He didn’t know that any of the part-time chefs _knew_ Vulcan cuisine. He took a sip, and his world crashed around his elegantly-pointed ears. 

Jim found him a moment later, still crying silently into his soup. He settled the incense, the mat, and the stones down onto his desk, bringing over Spock’s favored meditation robe and draping it around the trembling shoulders. “Computer, import settings from Commander Spock’s quarters and apply.” 

He didn’t rest his hand long on his First Officer’s shoulder, instead taking his seat kitty-corner, careful that he didn’t touch hands or touch feet, even though they were still booted. It had taken time to learn and implement even the simplest of Vulcan etiquette in his everyday life around Spock. He respected so many of the boundaries that his XO held, even though he would test which ones could be bent and poked at in harmless play. Spock did the same in return to both Bones and Jim. 

Jim opened his own plate to a hearty Irish beef stew and crusty bread, butter half-melted in a dish. Rand deserved a raise; she knew exactly what they both needed today. The air grew warmer and drier incrementally. Eventually, Spock gained control of his emotions, but a stray tear would still fall into his soup. After a long, comfortable silence, he forced his rusty voice to just barely over a whisper. “Is this my mother’s recipe?” 

Kirk raised his eyes and nodded. 

“How?” Chocolate eyes threatened to spill over again. 

“You know that I make calls to New Vulcan almost as often as you do. I speak with Sarek now and again. After the Riglik-Three fiasco, I kept him current with your recovery. And I asked him what food you might find you’d want to eat. He gave me Amanda's recipe for plomeek soup, kreyla, and a few other Vulcan dishes, since she added her own human spin on things. I made sure that every chef we have can make it right. They had a _very_ tough judge to please.” 

“He . . . he was here shortly after that mission, on his way back to New Vulcan from Earth.” 

“Yep. Tasted _everything_ , and he took back all the leftovers with him. From what I could tell, he loved it.” 

“I . . . I do not know what to say.” 

“Don’t have to say anything, Spock. It’s what friends do.” 

Dark eyes dropped down to the bowl. “Friends.” 

“Well, so long as you’re not trying to argue me into a corner while we’re on the bridge. I’m pretty sure that the crew have betting pools based on our arguments.” 

“Illogical and illicit.” 

“I’ll make sure to forward to you what they’re betting on. There’s an anonymous participant that’s won three times in the last two months, all based off of phrases you’ve said _exactly_. Makes me suspicious. Anyway.” Jim waved his spoon around and dug back into his stew. “I know you don’t like admitting to emotions. But can you be _honest_ with me if I ask you if you are experiencing emotional upheaval?” 

“I . . . am.” 

“Do you want to describe what you’re feeling, or do you want to keep it to yourself? No judgment from me, Spock. And no macho human male bullshit. Breakups fucking suck and I've cried my way through a few of them.” Glacial blue eyes flicked up, then back down to his meal. 

Closing his eyes, Spock found his voice as a whisper. “The Pre-Reform poets spoke of a pain that was less than that of a lost bond, but only incrementally. It is as if a part of my soul has been torn from my side. I have only felt worse sorrow twice before in my life.” 

Jim didn’t ask what those times were. His throat closed up against the swell of his own emotions. Vulcan. The warp core. “I wish I knew what to say to help you, Spock.” 

“Words are unnecessary.” 

Smiling at the simple rebuff that he had come to expect, Jim shrugged. “Part of my humanity is wishing that I had the right words to say. Another part of my humanity is not filtering most of the shit that I actually _do_ say.” 

“Your statement is accurate, but flawed.” 

“Oh?” 

“Your unbiased honesty, which the crew has come to appreciate and expect, is a welcome change from other commanding officers we have served under.” 

“Unbiased doesn’t sound too truthful to me, Spock. I’m biased about a lot of things.” He speared a hunk of potato and gestured with it, careful not to let it get close to Spock’s plate. “I’m biased about a lot of _people_ , for that matter. About this ship. And I’m jaded about Starfleet.” 

“And yet you are unafraid to voice your opinions. And for that, I am grateful for your restraint tonight.” 

“Helps that I genuinely like both of you, and I’m honestly worried how this is going to affect your personal and working relationships. I don’t have much of a family outside of my senior officers." Jim poked at a carrot. "So I displace a lot of my own needs and familial affections towards the lot of you crazy assholes who signed up with me.” He kept his head down through his admission. 

Silence wove into their conversation as the two men finished their meals. Exhausted by his emotions, Spock stood to clear the dishes, only to be shooed towards the head and a sonic shower. Once he was out, he found the lights lowered, and a simplified version of his meditation corner replicated by the captain’s viewport. Jim was nowhere to be seen at first, until a lump on the couch shifted and settled again. Walking to his captain, Spock looked down upon the sleeping face. Years melted off of the slumbering form of his closest friend, making him look more innocent, and more hurt than he let on. He had only ever seen Kirk sleeping curled up, never stretched out, and it concerned him that such a great man would still be protecting himself even in slumber. 

Turning to the window, Spock let his mind tread familiar pathways, settling into himself and facing his all-too-human emotions. Tomorrow was a new day. Tomorrow would bring rest. Tonight required organization of the mind. 

And if he paced his meditation to the sound of his captain’s breathing, it was only for him to know.


	2. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Mention of abuse.

Uhura yanked open the door for their suite on Starbase 3 after the knocking gained intensity. It had been irritating . . . then annoying . . . then infuriating . . . and now she was feeling quite homicidal. She was hungover. She was also the only one _not_ still puking into a bucket, which got her the duty of looking after her friends. Which was utter _bullshit_ because she was supposed to be the one being taken care of because this was _her_ breakup weekend. So needless to say, Nyota was livid. She still had last night’s makeup smudged under her eyes, and she was going to _murder_ whoever woke her up.

Concerned blue eyes peering at her almost made her slam the door shut as if they were cadets again and she had found him in bed with her roommate. Again. “What.”

He indicated the box he held in his hands, listing off what he brought with him. “Breakfast. Real coffee. Hangover hyposprays. Extended leave approved, paperwork is in the bag, since Scotty got his grubby fingers deeper into the engines than I’m happy with and we’re stuck here for a week, maybe a bit longer.” He took a step in, careful to face the wall immediately to his right, keeping his back to the three women hissing and groaning at them to close the door. He traced it until he could put down the box of breakfast and coffee on a table, pulling the bag off of his shoulder and placing it beside the box. Then began the trek back towards the door. “That’s all I came for. Let Rand or me know if you need anything else, okay?”

“Wait.”

"Nope, not in the room. I don't have to see her to know that Carol has that look that says she'll kill me. Talk with me out here." Kirk left the apartment, turned, and was careful not to look in on the three other ladies that were still struggling towards coherence. His eyebrows raised while he waited for Uhura to continue after she closed the door.

“Why are you doing this for me? Spock is _your_ best friend. I’m just—”

“Just? Just _nothing_. You're a good damn friend. Yeah, I’m looking out for my best friend, but you’re not _not_ one of my friends. Shitty first impressions aside, I hope that I can be among those you trust and can count upon, Uhura.” He sighed. “Beyond that, you’re family to me. Whether you like that fact or not. I’m keeping neutral in the breakup because I value both you and Spock equally in my life. Just in different ways because of your roles on the ship and in my personal life. I _can’t_ choose a side, Uhura; please don’t ask me to.”

She looked down at her hands, then reached over and tugged at his civilian jacket, curling into his strong embrace. He knew that he’d have a little hell to pay from Spock when the Vulcan caught Uhura’s scent on him, but he’d at least be logical about it. Kirk was a hugger. He was big on touch. “Hey, hey, now. You’re going to be okay, Uhura.” He rocked side to side, letting her cry herself out on his shirt, murmuring reassurances.

“I broke his heart.”

“Well, sounds like he broke yours, too.”

“He just didn’t . . . I knew that he couldn’t be human with his emotions . . .”

“But you wanted him to be. I know.”

“But he shows _you_ his emotions! I . . . I wanted that.”

“And you’re mad at me for having all the reactions you couldn’t get from him?”

Her “yes” was very small, muffled against his sternum. And Jim sighed, bowing his head to kiss the top of her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Uhura. I never meant to take anything from you. I wish that Spock just would fucking open up to his friends, but hey, he's Vulcan and mysterious and shit. Anyway, _look_. I want you to know that if you need to take time away from the _Enterprise_ , you just let me know, and I’ll get you a temporary assignment somewhere.”

“No. ’S _home_.”

Smiling, Jim squeezed her a little tighter. “I know. Same for me.”

“No bridge duties. Not for a while. Especially not with _him_.”

“Okay. You’re head of communications, so get me a new schedule when you’re back on duty and not a minute before. This is your time to recover, have some fantastic sex with someone you don’t know and won’t ever see again, and get yourself back together. I've got a list of some clean establishments if you want them. Because, you know, I need my Communications Officer at her absolute best. And you’re the only one who can tell me what she needs to get there.”

“ _God_ , Jim. Why do you have to be so fucking _nice_?”

“Because I fucked up when we first met and I’ve spent the last few years to try to get myself back out of that hole. Just don’t tell anyone I’m this mushy.”

“Don’t tell anyone I cried and you snuggled me and we’re even.”

“Deal.”

“I want that coffee.”

Releasing her, he wiped a final tear away from her face with his thumb. “I know. You won’t see me except for a couple times over the next few days, okay? And I mean it: you let me know if you need anything.”

Uhura looked down at her hands, then back up at the sad blue eyes, attempting a smile. “It’s Nyota. And I’ll take that drink.”

Oh, he knew her name, but he played along, a hint of the troublemaker still evident in his grin. “Nyota? No way! Sounds exotic and fun! I would have never guessed it. Shot of Jack?”

“Two.”

“You got it. Just let me know what bar you’re at tonight and they’ll be waiting for you. Get your breakfast, Nyota. I’ll see you around.”

She watched him turn away, his motions slowing from his usual regulation stride down into the loose-hipped swagger from Riverside that just _screamed_ that he was good at sex. The door widened behind her and Janice blinked owlishly out after him. “Asshole said he’d text me before he got here.”

“He did. You were too busy revisiting every drink from last night to notice.”

“Huh.”

“What did we do to get a Captain like him?”

“Fuck up on regulations and cheat. At least _I_ did. No other ship wanted me. But Kirk?” Rand opened the bag to sigh lovingly at the hangover remedies. “Kirk sees value in what others called faults.”

Christine and Carol shuffled over, holding onto each other for balance. Rand used the first dose on Christine, who took the hypospray and gave the others their own doses. The weapons engineer pulled out the coffee and started pouring it. “He’s always been like that. I served with his mother for a two-year mission just after his second year at the Academy, and whenever an updated roster with his name would show up, she’d do this insane research into who was assigned with Jim on his milk-runs and Command internships. And she could tell who was there because _he_ wanted them, and who was there because the Admiralty wanted them there.”

“And the difference?”

“Several things, but the most pressing was that everyone on our ship has something or someone we would break the rules for.”

“I . . . thought that my reason had been Spock.”

“Was it?” Christine asked, pulling out one of the covered breakfasts, opening it and freezing. “Oh my _God_. These are McCoy’s pancakes! Smell that vanilla!”

“No!” Carol whispered.

“Oh, yes, yes they are! Jan! Jan, get the table set up!”

Nyota blinked at the sudden flurry of movement before she asked, “What’s so great about his pancakes?”

“Sit. Eat. Coffee. Here.”

After the first bite, she sighed. “Christine. If you don’t take him, I might just have to.”

The blonde laughed. “Oh, I’m not interested in Len. Trust me. I know what he’s like on shift and I have no desire to be around him after shift. So be my guest, but you know he’s best buddies with Kirk, who is best buddies with your ex. So you’d be dating in the same circle of besties. Don’t do it.”

“Good points.” She shoved another forkful into her mouth, sighing with bliss. “Trust Jim to know what the best hangover foods are. Carol, are you and Jim an item?”

“Oh _God_ no.” Carol laughed, shaking her head and downing half of her coffee in one go. “No,” she repeated, “we’re not an item. Never were. Jim’s handsome, but he’s not my type. I like someone with a bit less responsibility on a starship. But if it was a random one-night hookup? I’d take Jim. Just not for very long. Even then, it would be weird after working with Winona; he’s like a brother by proxy. She was my ship-mum.”

“Ew. Point. Okay, so who _would_ you go for? Long-term relationship, from the Enterprise?” Janice asked around a mouthful of cheddar scrambled eggs. “Everyone answers, not just Carol.”

Carol sat back and thought for a long moment. “Everyone I’d name is gay for men, or straight and not interested in women.” She looked up at the ceiling. “From the ladies, I’d probably go for Svetlana Alekhin. Russian goddess who could break me in half, gorgeous looks. We’ve had some . . . dalliances in the past, and she was interested in something the last time we crossed paths.”

Three mouths hung open. Alekhin was the personal trainer for most of the senior crew. She had argued for and won the right to bring kettlebells into the gym for her workouts. The only one who could beat her in technique was Chekov, which had shocked many people before they realized that the little navigator was no slouch. They headed up a friendly rivalry as captains of kettlebell teams.

“For men? Sulu is gay, but if he was straight, I’d take him. Available guys? Probably Len McCoy.”

“You can have him,” Christine threw back the rest of her coffee, going for a refill. “Just let us have his pancakes from time to time.”

“What about you, then?” Carol teased. “Who would you settle down with?”

Christine didn’t even have to think about it. “Scotty. Because I wouldn't have to listen to him for very long and I know that I'd take second place to his engines."

"What, and you'd be satisfied with that?"

"Well, he'd have to be satisfied with the fact that he'd be taking second place to my career in medicine. So it's fair. But that's all on-ship crap. I really don't want anyone from the ship, to be honest."

Uhura looked to Rand. "Your turn."

"Pavel. Because he's cute and cuddly and would want the simple platonic romance while enjoying being a playboy while on shore leave." She grinned broadly. "It'd be fun to watch everyone think that he's being a playboy moron when really, I know he's pretty damn sexual. I’ve seen him tossed out of more quarters than anyone else on the ship."

"Wow. So then do you think you'd do well in a threesome with him and Sulu?" Carol asked, genuinely curious because of the dichotomy of the two men’s personality differences.

"Mmm. Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know about sharing someone with a long-term commitment like Sulu has with his man on Yorktown, and I think that I've seen Chekov sneaking out of Sulu's rooms here and there. So I don't know what agreement they've got. Still. Loaning the lover out to handle their sexual drive is a different beast." She settled back. "All right. Ny. You get two answers. Who would you have a one-night-stand with, and who would you have a long-term relationship with?"

"Somehow, this isn't fair."

"Perfectly fair. 'Fess up."

"Fine. Long-term relationship with Scotty, because he's stable and intelligent."

"And?"

Uhura blushed and poked at her pancakes, muttering.

"Nope. Where everyone can hear you."

"Dammit. Fine. Kirk."

There was silence at the table before Janice Rand settled back with a grin. "Really, now. Why him?"

"Because Gaila said that he was the most respectful one-night-stand that she's ever had in Starfleet and had him several times because he wasn’t some dumb hick that was into exotic looks. I woke up to him making both of us breakfast after they had come home late one night after finals were done. They hadn't even had sex that night and he was making sure she was taken care of."

Janice scooted her chair close and rested her head on Nyota's shoulder. "And you want that kind of respectful intimacy."

"It'll never happen. There's too many boundaries that would be violated and he's best friends with Spock and I just . . . I couldn't do that to Spock. Or to Jim. I'd feel awful."

A gentle, natural silence fell between the four friends, broken only by the sounds of eating and a few pings of text messages on various communicators popping up. After the coffee was finished and the table cleared, Nyota took first use of the sonic shower. Janice flopped onto the bed, reading the texts she'd gotten from Jim since he had left breakfast with them. _We're going to be at that garden bar and bistro place tonight. Spock doesn't wanna get laid, but I sure as hell do. Might find someone._ Then one from two minutes later. _He's meditating. Bones is out shopping for a souvenir for Princess Jo. I'm bored._ Another one from three minutes later. _Hey, did you know how easy it is to hack into a communicator? I think Bones got sidetracked and is either getting laid or getting a hummer. Lucky asshole._

There was the space of about ten minutes between that text and the next one. _Fuck. So, uh. I hacked yours. Really, really bad idea on my side. Glad I wasn't around Spock._

Nyota walked out of the bathroom in time to see Janice roar into her communicator, "What the _fuck_ do you mean, you hacked my comm?! Jesus _Christ_ , Jim! It's called fucking _privacy_!"

His voice was very quiet, very humble. "I'm sorry."

"I don't care _how_ bored you got!"

"I'm very, very sorry."

"You're paying for this goddamned trip."

"Yes, ma'am."

" _All_ of it."

"Yes, ma'am."

Nyota's voice cut through the conversation. "Did he hear _all_ of the conversation?"

Christine and Carol were sitting very, very still. Jim coughed, cleared his voice, and spoke. "Yes, ma'am."

"We're having private words later."

"After leave?"

"Try after lunch."

"Yes, ma'am."

"When is lunch?"

"In an hour."

"I'll see you in two hours at the coffee-shop by the holo-fountain. Alone."

"Yes ma'am. I'm sorry for intruding."

"Well, you were bound to fuck up _somewhere_ , Jim. I at least know that you can keep your mouth shut."

Janice cut the call, tossing the comm over her shoulder onto her pillow. "Well, that just blows that he heard that conversation. You _know_ he's going to start match-making. He’s such a fucking meddler. Uuuggghh. I take back _all_ the nice things I said about him."

~*~

Jim looked like a kicked puppy when Uhura met up with him. He glanced up, blushed, and stared down into his coffee as she sat across from him with a caramel latte. "I'm so, so, _so_ sorry, Uhura."

"I'm not."

His gaze darted up to meet hers, shock written over his face. She sighed. "Listen. I'm really not sorry you heard that. I should probably be more honest with you about a few things, though."

"I'll trade honesty for honesty, and we can seal this conversation later."

"Deal. After leave, this conversation _never_ happened."

"Shall I go first?"

Nyota grimaced and nodded. "It'll break the ice."

"Even though I was drunk as _shit_ that night we met, I didn't want to have sex with you. And if Cupcake hadn't interfered, you would have realized that." He grinned and sipped at his coffee. "I had wanted to ask you if you could tell me how I should go about propositioning that Andorian cadet that had been in the corner."

"Oh my God. Really?"

"Really. Fuck, Uhura. Have you _ever_ seen me make out with another human?"

Uhura sat back, fingers sliding off of the table. "No. _No._ Oh my God, you're xenosexual."

"Mostly, yeah. Thought that I was just pansexual when I was a kid, but once I was around other species a lot more often, I realized that I just didn't want to deal with human . . . clinginess and personality ugliness, I guess." He shrugged, looking away, fingers tapping against his mug in a nervous habit he just couldn't break. "I've got reason to not want to be with humans. Trauma. You know."

"I . . . Jim . . . I'm sorry. I didn't know that you were . . . that my words could be . . ."

He smiled gently at Uhura, shaking his head and tapping his knuckles against hers. "I've had time and a _lot_ of therapy to get over my issues. But if it came down to you or Gaila, I'd choose Gaila every time. It's not a reflection about _you_ , Ny, but a reflection of _me_ and my own need for certain comforts." His grin broadened. "Are we good about that?"

She caught the grin, nodding. "Yeah. We're good. My turn, huh?"

"Yeap." He sipped at his coffee.

"If you had kept flirting that first night in the bar, and if Cupcake hadn't interrupted, I would have literally tied you to the bed and had my way with you."

Coughing into his coffee, Kirk stared in wide-eyed shock at his Communications Officer primly sipping at her latte with the most interesting innocently-sultry look upon her face. "Holy _fuck_."

"Exactly."

"Okay. Wow. Okay. In keeping with that train of thought, I've got to ask . . . did you mean what you said this morning?"

"Every word."

"And . . . you know what Gaila meant to me, right? You know she was one of my closest friends no matter what she and I got up to?"

Uhura looked down at the designs in the foam. "I honestly had worried that you didn't understand that for her, sex was part of the friendship."

". . . should I read more into that than I actually am?"

Uhura snorted. "No. And that caused some friction between us until she learned the cultural differences. I'm really, _really_ heterosexual."

"It's not a _bad_ thing to be het, Nyota. You know who and what you're attracted to.”

She sipped at her coffee. “Look, I’m not going to ask you do anything about what you heard, except not tell anyone about it. Yes, I’m curious what it’d be like to have you in bed, but that’s an emotional rollercoaster that I’m not sure I can handle.”

“Same. I like you, and you’re a fucking good person, Nyota. You’re solid. I like that about you. But . . .” He grimaced, glancing away before leaning his elbows on the table. “I’ve a long history of being used by humans. And I really don’t want to _ever_ associate you with all the shit I’ve been through. You’re too good to be lumped in with the shitbags I’ve purged from my past. I’ve bluffed my way out of more beds than I've tried alcohols. I had panic attacks on Bones’ shoulder at the Academy because I thought or knew that something was wrong with me, but I didn’t know what it was or how to handle it. Until, you know, I just realized that my tastes were _different_.” He leaned closer, pointing to her nose. “You’re compassionate. You’re _smart_. You know how to tell me to eat shit and die in over seventy languages and several dialects of each language. You translate on the fly when the universal translator shits the bed and have kept us from getting into, what, eight diplomatic shitfests? Ny, you’re _fucking amazing_ , and I can’t help but be honored by what I overheard, but to me . . . it would hurt you. I can’t do that to you.”

She blinked rapidly for a half minute before screwing her eyes closed and grinning through her tears at his pep talk. “I asked the girls . . . what we did to deserve you. Most of them said, ‘Because we fucked up somewhere.’ I never did. Until now.”

“Naw, you didn’t fuck up. You made a choice that is for your best benefit.”

“And Spock’s.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’m not the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. He just doesn’t see it yet.” She eyed him over the lid of her latte as she took a sip.

Kirk winced. Shit. He really was that transparent.

“You admit it?”

“Sorta? Like with Gaila, if it was you against another species, I’d take that species. Not your fault.”

“Regardless of interstellar dangly bits or lack thereof?”

Jim coughed into his coffee again, lowering the mug to groan and let his head fall backwards, staring at the ceiling. “Nyota . . .”

“I can and will tell him.”

“Ny, I swear to God . . .”

“When the time’s right.”

Tilting his head back to squint at his communications officer, James Kirk saw the smile on her face and tossed his hands up. “Fine.”

“Good.”

“But only if I get to tell Scotty that you’re interested in more than his intelligence.”

“You wouldn’t _dare_.”

“One for one, Nyota.”

“That’s not going to work.”

“Yes it is. Same condition of making sure timing is right.”

Chairs from other tables were snagged by patrons on the way in, settling down around the small table. Rand swatted at Bones, who was shoving a grumpy Spock towards the counter to order tea. Jim was about to stand when he heard the Southern bark from across the room. “Keep your ass parked, Jim! Ship business! Sulu and Chekov will be here soon! I’m getting you more coffee; you’re gonna wanna hear this.”

Nyota's eyes lingered on Spock before she looked back to her Captain. And she smiled and nodded. "I accept your deal."

Groaning in relief, Jim slumped in his seat, knuckling at one eye. “Thanks. Ugh. Real fucking bright idea _that_ was, me wanting to be Captain. Uhura, can you believe what a dumb little shit I was in Riverside, thinking that I would be ready to be a captain in three years?”

“I saw you walk into that crossbeam, so . . .”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“You won’t get pity from me,” Janice retorted, sitting down with a PADD and her own cup of coffee. When Bones set another cup down in front of Jim’s now-empty mug, she pulled out a flask and grinned. “Irish coffee?”

“Hit me.” Straightening at seeing the last of his command crew arrive, drawing in a breath and settling his mind. It was a mental move he adapted from his own meditation time that he often employed during doubles. Jim let himself shift from “boy from asscrack of Iowa” to “Starfleet Captain.” He pulled out his PADD, settled it in front of him, and looked to Bones.

The rest of the café’s clientele took this as their cue to leave quietly. The baristas sighed in relief, getting the chance to catch up on their restocking, side-work, and cleaning schedules. With a Starfleet ship docked, business ramped up exponentially. It also meant that cafes and small restaurants could go from recreational pastimes to urgent business in just the way that had happened here.

Leonard settled into a chair, Spock between him and Jim. “So. You’re going to want more of that coffee before you hear what I have to say.”

“Can’t be worse than what Scotty told me at seven-thirty ship time.”

“Yep. Sure is,” Sulu replied, standing behind Christine while Chekov leaned against Uhura’s chair. Both still looked a little rumpled, and Jim was _sure_ that Chekov was wearing Sulu's shirt. It was slightly too long and large at the shoulders. “I received the message fifteen minutes ago.”

“Great. What did he break in my ship?”

“He didn’t.” Sulu pursed his lips. “Starfleet wants us back in the air by tonight and back to Earth as fast as we can get there. Admiral Barnett’s signature on the orders. No reason given in the communique.”

Stifling his desire to curl his lip in a snarl, Jim hid it by taking a healthy swig of his coffee. “Scotty knows?”

“Yes, sir. And he’s _pissed_.”

“Dammit. Alright. Sorry, everyone; shore leave’s cut short after we finish off some coffee and tea here. I’ll see what I can do once we get back on board and see just why Barnett wants us back home so quickly.” He flipped open his communicator. “Kirk to Enterprise, connect me with Scotty.”

_“Aye, sir.”_

It took a moment, and the harried snarl from the little device in his hand made Jim grin broadly. He loved his Chief Engineer. “Scotty! How’s she doing?”

_“With all due respect, sir, she’s in shit shape. We’ll be faster on impulse. Permission to conscript every engineer I can get me mitts on?”_

“Granted. Chekov?”

“Glad to, Keptin!”

“Scotty, you get me and Chekov when we’re back on board.”

_“Captain, I’d love it if we ran into yer Mam. She’d be mighty helpful!”_

“Well, we’ll pray for that miracle as we go. Mom said she was on supply runs with more building materials to New Vulcan when we spoke last week. That’s entirely out of our way, but if they're taking the scenic route, I'll commandeer her services. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

_“Aye, sir.”_

Jim threw back the last of his coffee, wincing at the burn of alcohol. Janice poured a _mean_ Irish Coffee. “Right. Pack up, be back on the Enterprise within the hour. Send me your invoices; it’s not fair that we have to cut this short on you, so I’ll see about getting you reimbursed.”

A chorus of thanks greeted his decision, which he waved off. “I’ll be going directly to engineering. Spock, I’ll need your mind with us down there. Sulu, you’ll have the Conn; Uhura, you’re acting first officer until we have warp capabilities back. Janice, make sure that the Yeomen staff know who is where and who they’re going to be assisting over the next few shifts. Plan for folks like me who forget to eat when we’re buried in projects. Bones, this might be a good time to get some of your busywork completed.”

“Overhauling the ventilation system in the quarantine room? Sounds like a good time to me,” McCoy grumbled.

“Marcus, you’re floating. If we need you in Engineering, in medical, or they need you on the Bridge, you’ll bounce between teams. Everyone good?” He met each gaze and grinned. “Alright. See you all back on the ship.” He stood, and most of the small crowd dispersed. He was left with Bones, Spock, Uhura, and Rand. The smile fell off of his face and he licked his lips, suddenly nervous. “Why would they want us back on Earth when they _knew_ we had planned a week-long overhaul and shore leave _lightyears_ away?”

“I have my guesses, and none of them are good,” Leonard grumbled. “Some classified shit that they don’t want aired over the subspace channels.”

“I concur with your hypothesis, Doctor.” Spock turned to Kirk, nodded, and walked out the door, letting it swing shut behind him. Uhura stayed before her Captain, Rand at her side.

Jim sighed. “Yep. He’s mad that I was talking to you without letting him know.” He grinned broadly at Uhura’s glance. “He’s hurt, but you’re both family. You get it, but I think that his Vulcan side doesn’t get it yet. I’ll work on that.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Bones grumbled, patting Jim’s shoulder. “Let’s get back.”

“You? Eager to be on a pressurized death trap?”

“ _You’re_ the one who made me take flying lessons before we left Earth.”

“Yeah. And _you’re_ the one who kept puking on me during shuttle rides until I made you take them.”

“Better a shuttle ride than a transporter.”

“Aw, c’mon, Bones, those are fun, too!”

“Sure, if you like the idea of your particles being scattered across space.”

Uhura smiled at their interaction, shaking her head and leaving them to it as she and Rand walked back towards their hotel room. It would be awkward for a while, but . . . she knew that Spock didn’t have the same emotional needs and expressions that she had. It wasn’t fair to either of them. But it would have to work out somehow. They’d make their professional relationship work out.


	3. chapter three

They were back on Earth twelve days later.

Uhura witnessed the most _spectacular_ meltdown of her Captain when he was finally told that they were there to transport _dignitaries_ back to their home planet. Yes, the Enterprise was the flagship and the pride of the fleet, but there were far grander ships in the black that were better suited for shuttling ambassadors around. They were a _science_ vessel, not a posh star-liner. He had conducted himself admirably during the subspace transmission, which he took in his ready room, but once it was done, he just let _loose_ with his dockside origins. It was a masterpiece to behold over her headpiece. From the subtle-but-clearly-incredulous glance that Spock sent her way, he could hear parts of the ranting as well. It was just as well that they weren’t long on the bridge together, Uhura having been summoned for her status as a senior officer to verify the transmission. But for a moment there, it was almost like old times again. Like they were the friends that they had started out as.

And when Jim stormed away from his ready room and over to the turbolift, Uhura knew that he was still looking after them both with the command barked over his shoulder. “Spock, with me. Sulu, you have the conn. Goddamned—” The door sliding shut cut off the second half of his rant.

When Jim Kirk stood in formal uniform with Spock to greet the dignitaries almost ten days later, he was perfectly professional and stony, matching his first officer’s lack of expression. “This is bullshit.”

“Captain, this is necessary.”

He closed his mouth as the door opened, frowning at first at the robed figure who entered before sighing and relaxing minutely. _Now_ it was starting to made sense why they were specifically requested. “Ambassador Sarek, it’s good to see you again.”

Spock raised his hand in a _ta’al_ , solemnly greeting his father. _“Osa-mekh; diftor heh smusma.”_

 _“Sochya eh dif, sa-fu.”_ He lowered his hand in time with his son, turning to the Captain. “I find it illogical and somewhat wasteful for Starfleet to recall you merely for our transport to New Vulcan, but I cannot find it in me to refuse the welcome company of my son and his crew.”

Kirk smiled, knowing that Sarek didn’t find fault or offense in his humanity. “It would be futile for me to lie to you, Ambassador; it wasn’t high on my list of favorite orders I’ve received in the last two years, either. They didn’t tell me that it was a New Vulcan run, just left it intentionally ambiguous. We’re not built or supplied for the transport of dignitaries, but we can certainly make room for yourselves and any supplies that have been gathered for New Vulcan.”

“It follows logic that an advanced science vessel such as yours should not be expected to transport many long-term diplomatic endeavors.” He indicated the doors behind him. “Ambassador Selek accompanied me; he is still conversing with several individuals on the merits of expanding upon the Vulcan embassy here in San Francisco.”

“It’s a worthy case,” Kirk replied, hands clasped behind his back as he paced beside the Ambassador, Spock on his father’s other side. “I know how hard it is for Vulcan society to introduce and include other species into some portions of your culture. But I do have proof to back up my opinion: after the meditation rooms opened at Starfleet when I was a cadet, it did far more good than harm. Many of the faculty believed that it helped several the cadets during finals and simulation week every semester.”

“I was unaware that you had frequented those rooms, Captain,” Spock commented, holding the door open for his father and commanding officer. “I held several shifts a week to assist those who had the most trouble learning how to settle into one’s own mind.”

Kirk shrugged, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I tried here and there when I was trying to impress someone, but I wasn’t the best at sitting still and trying to focus my awareness beyond my immediate physical needs.”

“From your words, it seems that your experience with meditation has changed, Captain,” Sarek murmured. “Would you indulge in my curiosity as how this came about?”

“Once we’re on the ship, I would be happy to invite you to a private dinner and discuss this with you,” Kirk replied, genuinely pleased with the shift in his perception of what was going to be a trying time of always being on his toes to prevent a diplomatic fallout, to being able to sass at his Vulcans who would sass right back.

Even if they weren’t really _his_ Vulcans in this universe. Sometimes, it was hard to separate which emotions were his, and which emotions belonged to memories from another Captain from another time and place.

“I would be honored to join you for a meal, Captain.”

They turned a corner to see a small gathering of Vulcans conversing almost-casually with Starfleet officials. One turned unerringly at their footsteps, brown eyes softening at the sight of who was joining them. One of the ensigns, probably fresh out of his Cadet reds, fumbled his PADD and stared openly while his Commander, a Betazoid, stood on his other side, a smile blooming radiantly over her face. The kid still didn’t have much in the way of filters. “Captain Kirk, Commander Spock!”

Jim smiled, “At ease.” He turned and the smile softened in a more intimate greeting. “Ambassador Selek, it’s very good to see you again.”

“The pleasure is mine, Captain. May I introduce you to the Ambassadors T’Amar, Verrin, and Kovar.”

The captain raised his hand in greeting in time with theirs, lowering it silently. “It will be my honor to transport you back to New Vulcan.” Turning to the Starfleet delegation, he nodded to the Betazoid, who flicked her eyes to the ensign. The young man was clearly in the midst of some hero-worship. He nodded to the rest. “We will be ready to depart at eighteen-hundred. If you have any questions, please contact Lieutenant Uhura on the Enterprise.” The Vulcans nodded once, slowly, before turning and striding away. Jim glanced to Spock, who lifted an eyebrow. He was glad that his first officer could read his intentions so clearly. “Kid. Walk with us for a moment.”

“Yessir!”

“What’s your name?”

“Kevin Riley, sir.”

Jim forced his face not to give anything away, staying in a gentle smile. If the kid didn’t remember anything, it would be better for him. There were no scars, no signs of the wounds he had seen Kevin suffer through, but the towheaded mop of hair that refused to behave and the dark blue eyes were the same. They stopped a few steps away from the main delegation, just out of human earshot, standing in front of a window that looked out at the bay, the noon water glittering. “You’re fresh out of the Academy, aren’t you? What track were you on?”

“Command, sir. I'm still enrolled at Starfleet Academy.” The young man, maybe twenty years old, shuffled his feet. “I’m . . . I want to match or beat your record of a three-year run of the command track. I’m two years in.” He smiled shyly. “No other human’s done it since, but Commander Spock holds the fastest record of making it through Starfleet Academy.”

“Just under two years, wasn’t it, Spock?”

“One year, ten months, fourteen days. However, I had the advantage of having taken several courses in my secondary education that matriculated into Starfleet requirements.” Spock replied, hands still held behind his back formally. “What is your focus within the command track, Cadet?”

The young man grinned broadly. “I thought that I wanted to be Bridge crew, but after I realized that I had a lot more fun when studying xenosociology, I found want to work with delegates and ambassadors. Commander Spock, I find that your people, _Vuhlkansu_ , are like nobody I have ever met before, and I realize how awful my filters are after the last five days of assisting them.”

Jim was impressed by the kid’s pronunciation. “Were you assigned to the delegation as a collective, or to only one of the Ambassadors?”

“One, sir. Ambassador Selek. He was _very_ gracious with my mistakes.”

“I’m sure he was; he’s well-acquainted with human nature, and is often one of the most forgiving Vulcans I have had the pleasure of meeting, aside from Commander Spock.” Jim smiled and patted the thin shoulder. “You’re doing well. I know that Vulcans and other species out there don’t always appreciate human enthusiasm, but don’t tone it down _too_ much. You want to do ambassadorial work? Be respectful, but don’t let _anyone_ dim your spirit. You can still be human and show your humanity while being a mediator and a representative of our people.”

“Th-thank you, Captain. I’ll try, sir.”

“I know you’ll do well.” Turning the kid around back towards the Betazoid waiting for him, Jim smiled. “And when you’re applying for your intern semester, send the Enterprise a message and we’ll see if your scores and your abilities match up with any open positions.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”

When the boy had joined the Betazoid and continued away, Jim sighed and rubbed at his nose. Spock turned to look at his commander, his gaze picking up the lines of tension and emotional pain that ran over the expressive face. “Captain?”

“I can’t talk about it. Not won’t. And certainly never in public.”

“Jim . . . are you compromised?”

Kirk stared after the boy whose life he saved on another planet. Last time he saw Kevin, the kid had a serious head trauma. He didn’t know what had become of him since. A lot of the survivors knew what horrors they were each capable of, and the older ones tended to avoid each other. They’d send short text-only messages on significant days, but never much more than that. “I might always be compromised by parts of my past, but I don’t let it affect my current decisions.” He sighed. “I’ll see if I can talk to you about it; they’ve denied my request several times but I’m getting sick of gag orders. Bones knows because he’s my CMO. He needed to know about certain medical conditions I still deal with.”

Spock took a moment before nodding once and walking beside his captain, his friend, his _brother_ , gathering his words carefully before he spoke. “Would what you wish to tell me be part of why you had trouble with meditating before the warp core incident?”

The fact that he could say it without his still-profound emotional turmoil attached to his expression or voice was another victory for his control.

“Yeah. Anyway. C’mon, Spock. Let’s get lunch at that Indian restaurant you said you liked. I’m buying.”

“You personally paid for the aborted shore leave, so I must refuse your offer. It is only logical that I pay for lunch today.”

“Spock—”

“And as I am also your friend and you have purchased meals for me on several occasions, I insist that I return the favor.”

Jim smiled, looking down at his hands. Stubborn Vulcans. “Okay, Spock.” He nodded. “Okay. Lead the way.”

~*~

They were back aboard the _Enterprise_ , out of the dress uniforms and back into the comfortable regulation blue and gold uniforms by fifteen-hundred. Kirk checked in with Rand, who was eyeballing the environmental controls of the common room in their little-used dignitary suite. “Captain, Commander. What’s your suggestion for Vulcan quarters?”

“Warm and dry,” Kirk replied, pulling a hovercart behind him with Vulcan artifacts that had been gifted to Starfleet from a private collector on Earth. Spock had negotiated for their return to the Vulcan people, but decided to be a little human about the fact, and would present the gifts during a formal dinner. “Spock?”

The half-Vulcan scanned his thumbprint into the controls, adjusting them slightly. He had grown used to a slightly-cooler environment aboard the ship, but not all Vulcans would appreciate it. “The atmospheric shift will take an hour to transition.”

She nodded, looking at the amount of décor that had been brought with them. “Will you need help?”

“I know you have other duties while we prepare for departure,” Kirk said, pausing to look at six doors fanning out from the common area. “So, if you could check in on us on an hour, that should be fine.”

“Thank you, sir.” She left, and Jim sighed.

“Captain?”

“Computer, seal the room, mark all conversation as confidential, accessible only to Commander Spock, Doctor Leonard H. McCoy, or Captain James T. Kirk.”

“Voice print security match: positive. Confidential access: acknowledged.”

Spock frowned as Jim asked, “Which room will be the meditation room?”

“Furthest from the door, left hand side.”

“Let’s set that up first.”

It took ten minutes before Jim spoke again, Spock giving him the space he needed until the right words could be found. His voice was barely audible over the sound of the atmospheric controls.

“I survived Tarsus. With Kevin.”

Spock froze, blinked, turned towards his captain, and set the meditation mat down in front of the low table, candles already placed in a traditional pattern. “Jim . . .”

“The poisoned crops, the chemicals they put into the ground, the malnutrition . . . they made the mild allergies I had from being born premature in the radiation of space so much worse. The genetics experiments. Genocide. Eugenics.” He was turning a hexagonal meditation stone around in his hand. “It’s why you’ll never see me with a human lover. Not even to have children. I sold myself, my body, to keep the younger kids alive because what I did got us food. I let them fuck around with the color of my eyes so that I could feed the kids depending on me. I was _fourteen_ , Spock.”

“It is why you suffer from insomnia.”

“Among other behavioral issues. And it's why I could never figure out how to meditate until you helped me. It was more personal than what Vulcans had helped start at the Academy.”

“The meditations we have for public practice is meant to be shared to any who wish to learn it.” Spock took a careful step forward, not wanting to startle or cause his Captain to shut down in this fragile state. “But the family meditations, private and unique to their houses and clans, are meant for assisting the bonding between those who share a home. It . . . honors both myself and my clan, that the meditations of my house brought you peace, Jim.”

Blue eyes slowly traveled up to meet a chocolate brown gaze that softened from the normally-Vulcan distance Spock kept between himself and much of the crew. “You don’t pity me.”

“Jim, for all that you have endured, for all that you have overcome to sit in the one chair on this ship that only _you_ can fill with your convictions and personality, I cannot find it within myself to pity you. I . . . I feel sadness that you have had to live through such experiences, but . . . pride as well, for your accomplishments.” Spock took another step closer, Jim now within the personal space boundary that he very rarely allowed anyone else into. “You do not judge me for attributes that I see as weaknesses; it would be illogical, unethical, and immoral to not offer you the same regard.”

The door slid open, startling both men. But it was only two people who could enter with the confidentiality level raised.

And Jim felt like a moron for that loophole when the elderly Vulcan walked in, the door closing behind him. “I apologize; I did not realize that the door was locked for any reason other than to respond to Vulcan bio-signatures.”

“Ah, it’s all right,” Jim sighed, shaking his head and placing the stone down, turning it carefully to show off an artful flaw in the cut. He pulled out the last of the meditation idols, setting it among the candles, precisely where he had seen Spock place his own, smaller version of the idol.

“We can continue this conversation at a later date,” Spock offered, placing mats easily.

Jim paused, head bowed. “No, I think I need to know something.”

“I vowed not to interfere, old friend.”

“You can’t interfere with what has already happened to me in the past.” Jim turned, gaze wary. “Does the name Tarsus mean anything to you in relation to your Kirk.”

The old face wrinkled with the effort to remain still, but the voice was low, pained. “Yes. My Jim survived Tarsus IV. I am truly upset that you have had to endure the same.”

Jim nodded, turning away and trying to slow his breathing again, pacing his voice in measured tones. “Does Kevin remember Tarsus and my involvement, Ambassador?”

“Yes, I believe he does.”

“Okay.” And that’s all he could do. Kevin was a good kid, and he meant what he said; he'd bring Kev onto the Enterprise in a heartbeat. Jim was exhausted from the strain of sharing one of the things he held close to his chest, both because of Starfleet orders and the fact that he simply _couldn’t_ live with keeping this between himself and Bones (who never brought it up again unless Jim did), or himself and some sanctioned therapist that often found themselves sent packing. Jim _hated_ shrinks. They never helped him.

Nothing had helped him.

Until Spock.

“Computer. End Confidential record.”

“Acknowledged. Record finalized, sealed, and archived.”

Ambassador Spock swept over, rested his hand upon Kirk’s shoulder, squeezing the young muscle firmly. “Jim, why not retire for the rest of the evening? Spock and I can handle the remainder of the decorating.”

Commander Spock found himself bristling at the casual touch, but couldn’t figure out _why_ he responded in such a manner. Jim was his friend, and the old Vulcan was himself, serving Jim in a different capacity now that . . . After Pike had been laid to rest. The old man was like a father to Jim, while Spock held a brotherly bond. It was illogical to be jealous of oneself, after all.

“No. If I’m alone, I’ll brood. I gotta keep busy.”

“Mm. My Jim had much the same affliction. Very well.”

Jim grabbed a box of artifacts and went into a separate room. Ambassador Spock smiled openly at how the young Captain wanted to be alone, but wanted to be around people. He took another box and went into the room beside the meditation room, looking at his younger counterpart and indicating the room beside the one that Jim was working on.

They would be all right.

~*~

Dinner with Sarek was actually quite comfortable. Spock had requested time to meditate upon what Jim had shared with him, but would have his own private dinner with his father on their second night with the crew. Thankfully, the Elder was used to the human customs of chatting over food, and found himself relaxing in the familiar dodge-and-sass that Vulcans enjoyed employing in their bid to make "small talk" more significant. Because of Spock's presence on the Enterprise, Jim had become accustomed to Vulcan hospitality practices, and how often they warred with the opposing views of human hospitality. So while Jim provided the dinner, Sarek set the table.

Again, he was grateful that Sarek understood humans, and would tolerate being served as the guest rather than serve his host. Once finished with the meal, tea steaming in matching cups, the men finally seemed at the place where they could talk about Jim and meditation.

"You do not see meditation as something you wish to advertise."

Jim winced, fingers curled around the cup. "It's less about the advertisement, and more about the human perception of the captain. On Vulcan ships, everyone meditates. It's a cultural norm. Starfleet has a human majority of personnel, and human perceptions tend to overflow into certain other species’ perception of humans if translations aren’t accurate. And while there's a lot of 'deep thought' upon the next mission, or results from a previous mission, a lot of humans still connect meditation with spiritual practices. And I'm not necessarily the kind of man to speak about my faith, if I even can settle on one single philosophy outside of respecting all life in all forms that it comes in."

"I must disagree on your concept that spirituality is frowned upon in leadership; that is not necessarily the rule on all Starfleet vessels."

"Yeah, I figured you might. I just don’t want to create the kind of discord I’ve seen reports of such as on the _Berlin_ or on the _Farragut_ before she was destroyed. Anyway. Spock has tutored me enough times that I can tell when he's in a simple meditation, or if he's soul-searching."

Sarek sipped at his tea, taking his time to reply in view of Jim’s disclosure. It was both reassuring and telling that Spock felt comfortable enough around Kirk to practice the deeper forms of meditation. "Vulcans, as you know, are clan-based. It is part of our pre-Reformation eras that both our biology and psychological needs decree that we must continue. Meditation does not only have logical purposes of ordering the mind, but it brings our minds to a level of stillness that facilitates the strengthening of our bonds. Families meditate together, even with squirming toddlers."

Jim snorted a laugh, swirling the tea and taking a sip of it. The simple mint bloomed over his tongue. "I take it that Spock wasn't always quite so poised."

"No Vulcan toddler is, Jim. They simply have varying speeds until they drop into slumber."

"You ever been around kittens, Sarek? Because that's adorable and that reminds me of watching a litter of barn kittens grow up when I was a kid in Iowa. Lotta energy, playful, then they just drop into a puddle of fur and snores."

"Quite." There was something in his voice, something not quite so controlled, and Jim's gaze snapped up to focus on his XO's father.

"What is it?"

A light smile was at the corner of the man's eyes, noticeable only because it was the same as Spock's smile, only . . . it was sad. "I find myself nostalgic for my younger days, simpler days with my Clan and family. Amanda and I spoke often about what our family would grow, who would be adopted and bonded into our house."

Jim let his eyes drop, unsure of what they were _really_ talking about here. "Sarek, what does it _really_ mean for me to be meditating with Spock?"

The Vulcan finished his tea, stood, and folded his hands behind his back, walking a few steps towards the exit. "For a young, unbonded male of his age, Jim, it means that my son finds peace with your mind. And, possibly, wishes to find peace with your physical self as well."

Jim sat straight so fast that his back clicked in several places. "Sarek! You don't just drop a bomb on someone like that!"

He continued on as if Jim hadn't spoken. "The question remains, Mr. Kirk, is if you are willing to speak about these things with my _sa-fu_ before he loses hope."

"He and Uhura _just_ broke up a little over two weeks ago! I'm not going to just sweep in and pluck him up like I was waiting for this!" Jumping to his feet, Jim paced, hands running through his hair. "Sarek, sir, I'm their _friend_. I can't hurt either one of them in that way."

Turning to face the younger man, the Vulcan Elder slowly blinked once. "So it is true that you hold my son in the same regard that I understand he holds you in?"

"Yes, but – wait. How would you even _know_?"

"And it is true that you have held affection for him that has not dimmed, despite his involvement with Nyota?"

"Sarek, please, he's—"

"I will take your expression as an affirmative. And is it your intention to one day join my house, my clan, at Spock's side?"

"What? Sarek, I can't just rush him into a relationship! I've loved him for _years_. A few months, another year? I can wait."

"We are not promised the next moment, James Kirk. Why waste your time pining? It is illogical."

A low growl raised the hair on the back of Jim's neck. His back had been placed towards the door to his bathroom, and apparently, Spock had heard some of their discussion.

Sarek watched serenely as Spock paced in, the growl forming into harsh words. He could not deny the solid emotionalism of his son, knowing how very well it was balanced against his logic. It had taken him almost a year of intense meditation to come to peace with his son's genetic disposition, despite his Vulcan upbringing. "Spock, in Standard for your Captain, please."

"You overstep the boundaries of our relationship, Father."

"A father's concern for the welfare of the son is not overstepping. Your well-being is my priority."

Jim stood back. Sometimes, a good ol' Vulcan hissy fit was the perfect thing to clear the air. But the last thing he wanted to do was stand between two Vulcans in the middle of a logic-off. He had a feeling that this particular argument had been coming for years. The one thing that he was grateful for was the fact that he was actually able to take a moment to gather himself and sort through his own emotions.

And to tell his very-interested dick to _stand the fuck down_ or there'd be ice involved.

Spock, when incised, was _gorgeous_. He was intense, eyes dark and focused, face poised and shoulders squared.

"It is not an urgent matter that I be in a courting relationship with any individual at this time."

"And if it were to become urgent?"

"We do not have proof that my genetics—"

"There is proof, and you might wish to speak with him yourself. Furthermore, with the destruction of Vulcan, your contemporaries have been . . . afflicted sooner than their biology has indicated for a normal cycle."

Spock bristled, opened his mouth, and Jim cut in. "Ambassador, I appreciate that you are looking out for your son's benefit, and I _am_ flattered that you find me to be an acceptable romantic liaison for him. Inasmuch as you're speaking Standard, you're dancing around a subject and I'm not following. Now, I can see this conversation ending one of two ways: Spock storming out, or you can give us the space to talk."

"I do not 'storm out,' Captain."

" _Spock_. You storm out."

Sarek shifted, gaining their attention. "Your logic and assessment is sound. I take my leave of you. Good evening." He left with a swish of robes, the door hissing shut after his heels.

Jim almost wished that Vulcan robes would get caught in the damned doors just _once_. Instead, he turned to his first officer and sighed. "Well, fuck it. Come on, I'll start the tea and you can start talking as to why the hell your father decided to play matchmaker."

"I will not."

"Jesus, Spock. Give me a reason, or else I'll follow your father and make a scene in the middle of the goddamn hallway. Sit. Tea. Talk."

"Very well, it is not that I _will not_ , but rather that I _cannot_. It is not something we talk about to non-Vulcans."

Jim sighed explosively, putting the antiquated tea pot on a stone trivet. "You know, sometimes Vulcans can be _exceedingly_ xenophobic. If it's as serious a problem as Sarek was trying to convey, then it's got to be something that would concern me. And if it has to do with him finding you a mate—" He froze, sleepy thoughts from a haphazard meld in an ice cave rising to the surface. He sank into a seat, kitty-corner to Spock at the table, glacial eyes fierce as he regarded his friend.

Who was assiduously avoiding eye contact.

"Spock. _Spock_ , will you fucking look at me?"

It took a moment, but earthen hues met the sky tones of his captain.

" _Pon farr_? It's happening prematurely to your generation because of Vulcan?"

"How do you—"

"Old man melded with me on the fucking ice-hell that you marooned me on. Got a lot of information that he wanted to give me, and a lot of information that he _didn't_ want to give me because he was emotionally compromised. Lotta stuff leaked through."

It took a moment, but finally, Spock sagged in the chair, perfect poise crumbling. "Of course. If there is anyone who would know what my genetics would do, it would be _him_."

"For what it's worth? I'm glad that we didn't have the problem that our counterparts had. That Spock went into the blood fever, and T'Bitch challenged, chose _my_ counterpart as champion, and Spock thought that he'd killed him while she went off with some _meathead_ named Stonn."

Huffing once in amusement at the eventual similarities of their universes, Spock murmured, "Then it was wise that she and I dissolved our bond when I enlisted in Starfleet. I . . . could not live with myself if I caused you any great harm, Jim."

With that admission, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate. Jim sighed, pouring the tea, having gone with a spiced chai that didn't activate any of his allergies. It had been a holiday gift from Spock as a bit of a fun criticism at his complaint that tea didn't have the same strength of taste that coffee did. "So. Your dad's all worried that you're gonna hit blood fever and not have a contingency plan?"

Taking the cup with a nod, Spock seemed to find comfort in the scent of the spices. "Once . . . once the bond is made in _pon farr_ , it is not easily dissolved, and it is shameful to the families to have it dissolved for a frivolous reason. Every seven years after meeting at the _Koon-ut-kalif-fee_ , _pon farr_ returns, and the only one who can . . . soothe the flames . . . is the bondmate. Even if they choose separate lovers in the interim."

Jim didn't break eye contact. "You really don't want to be bonded to anyone, do you."

Opening his mouth, but finding no words, Spock looked down into his tea, unable to bear the weight of his captain's gaze. "It is less that I do not want to be bonded, and more that the one I wish to be bonded with does not share my regard and desire for monogamy."

Dammit. Of course Spock loved someone else. Just Jim's luck. Why else would Nyota have broken up with the pointy-eared bastard? And he had hoped that Spock might have overheard his admission to Sarek. Guess not. "Have you talked to them about it?"

"Negative. The timing has not been right. And . . . I admit that I do not wish to process their rejection."

"So you only _think_ that they don't like you the way you like them."

"They are cautious in taking lovers, and I am clearly not the type taken to their bed."

Jim sat back. "You've been watching them pretty closely if you can tell who they've been fucking. And you've gotta have been watching for a lot longer than the last two weeks of your new single status to notice those patterns. Are they just not interested in long-term one-on-one relationships?"

"I do not know. Though, I admit that I have never seen them in one."

"Fuck, Spock. I'm sorry. Do they have long-term _friendships_ with anyone? Because that can tell you more about their desire to have a long-term relationship than much of anything else." Jim winced. "Okay, and if I'm prying, I'm sorry. But you deserve the best person out there. You're a fucking _treasure_ , and I'm protective of my friends."

"I assure you, I would have this conversation with no one else, Jim." Though, Spock was doubting Jim's level of intelligence with this conversation. But the man was decidedly _dense_ when it came to certain interpersonal relationships.

It was going to kill him, but he was going to offer it anyway. "Spock, I’ll . . . I’ll wingman for you if you need me to."

A quiet huff indicated Vulcan amusement. "I will admit to hoping for a different offer from you, Jim."

The only reply was a confused look, followed by exasperation as the implications hit. "God, Spock. You _did_ hear what I said to your dad."

"Indeed."

"Look, I'm _really_ fucking confused right now." Throwing back the last of his tea, he set the cup down and leaned on the table. "You just broke up with Uhura. You're in love with someone. And you expect me to tell you _now_ that I'm ass-over-kettle in love with you, and _have been_ since the moment you accused me of cheating on your damned test?" Bursting into motion, Jim cursed in Andorian before shoving hands on his hips and facing the serene face. "I can't fucking _believe_ you right now. I've done everything possible to keep my . . . my _regard_ for you buried and settled in a place where I can function _as your friend_. For fuck's sake, Spock, please don't ask me to sacrifice myself as a placeholder just to watch you with someone else."

Spock was silent for a long moment, realizing and finally admitting it to himself: "We have both been fools."

"What?!"

Standing, Spock moved into Jim's personal space, his gaze level and soft. "Jim, it has always been _you_. I fear _your_ rejection. I am not female, I am not beautiful, I am half-human, I am not like any of those whom you have shared physical relations with. I—"

"You need to shut up." Jim kept his finger over Spock's lips. "And you need to listen real damn well with those sexy ears of yours. I don't _care_ about gender or sex. Ask Bones how many times he's seen me come onto males or other-sexed aliens. Secondly, how the fuck _dare_ you think that you're not beautiful. Jesus, Spock, if I had met you in any bar or coffeeshop outside of here, I would have been begging you for even some of your time, _just_ to be able to watch your face and hear your voice. You're _gorgeous_. And I know you know that I have some issues with the concept of a human lover. But you're _you_ , and you're not just human, but you're very much Vulcan as well. I can't say that I'm gonna be perfect, I can't say that I might not be triggered by something dumb somewhere. But I can't hold it against you. It's _you_ that I've been distracting myself from by going after all these other people. The less they looked like you, the less likely I would start moaning your name."

A green flush swept over pale cheeks, and Jim lowered his hand, resting it over Spock's heart. "It's _you_. And it always will be."

"How can you promise that? I have lost you once already."

"You could never lose me to another _person_ , Spock. Not the friendship we share, not the love."

"I . . . I thank you."

"You're welcome."

Hesitantly, Spock reached up to touch the back of Jim's hand. "I am at a loss as to how to proceed from here."

Jim smiled, and it was softer than Spock had ever seen before. "Well, I wouldn't object to a hug. Maybe kissing. I _do_ put out on the first date, but if you don't, then I'll be jerking off in the shower later to the memory of you growling."

"Jim."

"Mmhm?"

"Shut up."

"Why? Make m- _mmf_!"

Spock’s lips against his own was enough to make Jim’s knees tremble. Of all of his quiet fantasies, all of his desires, none could compare against the pressure of those perfect satin lips against his own.

Pulling his face away while simultaneously twining his arms around his Jim, Spock whispered, "May I court you as a potential bondmate, James Tiberius Kirk of Iowa?"

"Yes. So long as you teach me the steps and allow me the same courtesy. I want to do this _right_ by both your people and mine."

"I would be honored to do so."

Jim leaned closer, smiling softly as he simply rested the tip of his nose against Spock's. Both closed their eyes with a sigh as foreheads came to touch, tense muscles melting. The chaste touch seemed to do more than any kisses either of them had shared with others.

It was like coming home.

They felt the drop out of warp, the distinctive shudder sending frowns across their features. Pulling away from each other reluctantly, the pair started moving towards the door to the hallway. The comm whistled, and Uhura's voice was the next thing through. "Captain! Captain, we have a distress signal from a Vulcan vessel! We need you on the bridge _now_."

"On my way! Tell Scotty to get the transporters hot and not to wait for permission to start beaming anyone over if he gets a lock!"

As soon as they hit the hallway, they were running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha-HA! Cliffhanger! Next update will be in a week or so.


	4. chapter four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little something to brighten your Election Day 2016! Seriously, all we can do now is wait. 
> 
> Upped the rating not for this chapter, but for what I'm working on in the next chapter. *grins*

"Report!" Kirk barked, Sulu rising from the captain's chair to face him. He was aware of Spock sliding into the quickly-vacated seat at his science station. 

"We received a distress signal over several wide-spectrum communication bands," Sulu replied, not taking the pilot's seat, even though his relief had glanced over her shoulder before aiming her gaze back at her display. Until Sulu gave the order, her job was keeping the ship steady and making better time than any other ship in the fleet would have made in this circumstance. Scotty and his upgrades kept the _Enterprise_ ahead of what Starfleet could churn out. "They're dead in the black, sir. No nacelles. No impulse. Reported containment leaks in engineering, and warp core ejected to keep radiation from flooding life-support. We're still five minutes out, and they have seven minutes of life-support remaining." 

"Fuck," Kirk hissed under his breath. "Can we cut the time any?" 

"No, sir. Any faster and we could overshoot when we drop warp." 

"Okay. Return to your station." Jim settled into his chair, eyes darting over the readouts visible on the viewport. 

"Aye, sir." 

"Captain," Spock was moving towards his right shoulder, a sight that was familiar to everyone onboard. "Standard protocol in Vulcan vessels is to congregate in a central location that can be sealed to prevent depressurization. Vulcan vessels identify the high-priority passengers for transporter beaming to a safe location utilizing standard transport tags. Secondary targets will be waiting within one meter of the original targets." 

Kirk nodded, eyes going distant as he began to whip together a plan. He pushed a programmed comms button as Spock returned to his station. "Scotty, you in Transporter One yet?" 

"Yes, Captain. Awaiting your signal." 

"I want you to lock on to as many tagged life-signs as possible and start transporting them the _moment_ we drop warp. Have Transporter Two target untagged life-signs; they’ll be within five and ten feet of any tagged individual. I trust your timing and your judgment.” 

“Aye, sir!” 

“Kirk out.” His hand fisted, and he pushed the side of his index finger against his lips, trying to wrap his mind around the emergency. Four minutes. “Anyone know what caused the system failure? Any scans, _anything_? What caused the containment failure?” 

“Receiving a bulk transmission from the Vulcan vessel, Captain,” Uhura barked over her shoulder. “It looks like an info dump, black-box style.” 

“Follow protocol! Shunt it to an isolated memory drive and start automatic virus and malware scans. Spock, Chekov, you two and I will go over the code later; I want to know if this was a spontaneous system failure or a malicious attack.” He stood, unable to keep himself settled in his chair any longer. “Chekov, where are we, and where was that vessel going?” 

“Perhaps two days out from New Wulcan at warp four, Keptin. We are on ze wery outskirts of Epsilon Delta system.” The navigator and strategist was making quick calculations, faster than Kirk could follow. More than ever, he was grateful for the crew that served with him. “Top speed of Wulcan wessel ees . . . varp three. Old model, ciwillian craft, signs of being freighter before passenger transport.” 

“This doesn’t seem right,” Kirk murmured, turning back to his chair. He sat, the movement slow and methodical, his mind whirling. Three minutes. “Something just isn’t adding up here.” 

More reports as the scans finally came back in. Uhura completed the database dump, trying to get more information from the Vulcan ship's mainframe, but their communications went out before any passenger manifestos could be relayed. 

One minute. 

Ten seconds. 

Warp drop. 

Jim couldn’t tear his gaze away from the darkened ship, save for a handful of red spots that would have indicated heated metal from weapons fire, or . . . “Something’s not right here. Someone scan their impulse!” 

“I told you; they’re dead in the black!” Sulu barked as he began a quick scan, then sat back at the readout. “My _God_. They’re overheating! Their internal reports were either fabricated or they’ve just started them up at full-power, but all vent outlets have been blocked! They’re going to superheat the atmosphere in the ship and bake anyone still in there in less than thirty seconds!” 

“Scotty, get everyone off that ship _now_!” 

“Tagged Vulcans on-board, headin’ ta medical!” the panicked cry returned. “I’m tryin’ ta lock on to the starboard group an’ Transporter two is attemptin’ portside!” 

Light flared over the forward view, half-blinding any crew facing the Vulcan ship. 

“Shields up!” 

“Shields raised, no sign of any non-Federation ships!” 

The light faded. 

There was no whole ship left before them. 

Kirk released his breath slowly, turning to Spock and opening his mouth. He froze, seeing a wild flash in the dark eyes. In the silence of the bridge, he spoke quietly. “Sulu, you have the con. Have Operations and Engineering gather as much of the wreckage as we can into Cargo Two. See if we can get Beta shift up here a few hours early for relief, and keep a log of who takes on extra hours.” He swallowed against a lump in his throat, breathing carefully and slowly. “Commander Spock . . . with me. Let’s see who we rescued. Lieutenant Uhura, secure the downloaded information in quarantine and locked against any tampering. I want to know what happened on that ship, and I don’t want anyone giving us false leads.” 

A chorus of affirmatives met his orders as he strode to the turbolift, Spock at his heels. Once they were alone, the Vulcan sagged. Jim hit the emergency stop, reaching over to rest his hand over Spock’s heart. “What? What happened, Spock?” 

“I . . . I felt their deaths.” Swallowing, trembling, the man rubbed at the bridge of his nose, attempting for balance, for peace. “It brought forth . . . unwelcome memories.” 

“Triggered a flashback to . . .” What did the Vulcans call it? Damn. That’s right. “The Great Loss.” 

“Affirmative.” 

Jim sighed, curling his Vulcan into his arms, pressing a kiss to his neck. The skin contact rushed the sensation of deep loss over his mind, and he closed his eyes, pushing as much support and affection in return. “Hey, I’m here for you, Spock. Do you need to skip out to meditate?” 

“No, Jim. I . . . I must continue on.” 

“Very well. But the _moment_ that anything triggers you into anything else, you let me know, and I’ll have Uhura comm in an emergency that requires your attention in one of your labs. And I want you to get to quarters and take all the time you need to find your balance again.” 

He felt Spock nodding against his shoulder. “I . . . I thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Straightening his first officer, Kirk smiled reassuringly, reaching up to brush thumbs over dry cheeks. “Do you want your dad or Selek with us when we talk with the survivors?” 

“I believe that may be an expedient measure.” 

“Right. Let’s get them on the way.” 

Thankfully, the Vulcans’ suite was on the same level as the main medical bay, and it was a quick stop to knock on the door. Sarek hardly seemed surprised to see them, easily able to sense his son’s emotional turbulence. Kirk suspected that Sarek and the other Ambassadors had felt the close deaths of other Vulcans as well, but his control was considerably tighter. “What has happened?” 

Kirk was every inch the Starfleet Captain. “Better come with us, Ambassador Sarek. There’s been an emergency rescue of Vulcans from a disabled ship. We weren’t able to get everyone off in time.” Losing a touch of his bearing, he called into the suite, “Selek! Let's go! We’ll need you, too!” 

The man appeared from his door without a comment, swirling a cloak around his shoulders. In that moment, that simple motion it was so very clear to see how he was Spock, and Spock was him. It was reassuring on a very deep level, on a level that Jim didn’t even understand yet. The elder strode out into the hall, squeezing his younger counterpart’s shoulder. Jim nodded and strode down the hallway, his Spock directly at his left shoulder, Selek a step behind at his right shoulder, and Sarek a step behind Spock’s left shoulder. Crew flattened themselves against the walls at the silent and swift march to Medbay, staring after the small group. 

Selek would tell Jim later, in a moment of the young Captain’s self-doubt, that it was with a mix of awe and trepidation that his crew had seen their Captain not only standing beside these stony Vulcans, but was clearly a leader even among Ambassadors. 

Medbay doors hissed open to show five Vulcans. 

Five. 

Jim stuffed his grief deep into his gut. He’d be beating the snot out of a sandbag in the gym tonight. He needed calm. He needed to be human. He needed to be in command. “I am James Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise.” A woman turned to face them, hair in an elaborate up-do. Spock stiffened imperceptibly beside him, the motion only caught because he had spent so much time with his First. Jim continued. “You are welcome on my ship as we return to New Vulcan. This is my first officer—” 

“S’chn T’gai Spock.” 

Jim glanced at Spock, then to the woman. “I see you're acquainted. And you are?” 

“T’sai T’Pring.” 

Oh. Fun. Nobility. There was a pause, and Bones turned away from the Vulcan he was examining to give Jim a raised eyebrow. Clearly, someone had been making a nuisance of herself. Kirk smiled as charmingly as he could. “Lady T’Pring, might you introduce the rest of those with you?” 

“I am no herald.” 

Selek coughed into his hand, clearing his throat. It was a typically human response to hiding a laugh, but could also be seen as an Elder being ill-adjusted to the cooler atmosphere of a human starship. Sneaky bastard. 

A male Vulcan, somewhere around Spock’s age, muscled where Spock was lean, stood from where he had been sitting on a stool and presented the ta’al. “I am Stonn, a contemporary of Commander Spock. This is my father, Elder Pekev, and his Bondmate, Elder T’Karik. Your medic is seeing to the _reldai_ Saavik.” 

This time, it was Selek who stiffened in recognition of the name. Jim didn’t miss the reaction, nor Stonn’s lack of maternal claim. So his mother had died at some point, and this was his step-mother. “Stonn, well met. I thank you for your name and offer you, the _reldai_ , and your parents my own.” It was petty to exclude T’Pring, but there was truly no way that he would allow someone who caused his XO pain to use his name. 

“We are honored, James.” The sleek head bowed, dark eyes closing momentarily. 

Jim turned to his CMO. “Bones, how is she?” 

“Well, for being pretty damn pregnant with twins and stressed by the circumstances, I’d say that she’s doing well. Babies are healthy, she’s monitoring the stress she’s transferring to them. Makes my job a hell of a lot easier than if it was a human pregnancy; I’d probably delivering babies by now.” He carefully helped the young woman sit up, making sure to avoid skin contact. “That said, I’d rather she hunker down to rest sooner rather than later.” 

“Understood. We have a suite set up for Vulcan comfort, but can see about private quarters if any of you would prefer.” 

“It would be proper for individuals of our stature be given more than a . . . suite to _share_.” T’Pring stated. 

Jim drew in a breath rather than respond off the cuff. He indicated the door. “I will take your recommendation under consideration. Before we set up rooms, I’d like to speak with you about what has just occurred.” 

“We require rest and meditation.” 

“And you will get it. It will take about an hour to prepare quarters suited and comfortable to your physiological needs,” Kirk replied easily. “Until then, we will talk.” 

She opened her mouth, but closed it at a glance from Stonn. Jim nodded. “Thank you. McCoy, you come too.” Pulling out his communicator, he put it on the private setting after connecting to his Chief Engineer. “Mister Scott, are you free?” 

_“Aye. An’ sober until ye an’ a few others get here.”_

“That’s going to have to wait for an hour or two. Can you meet us in Med Conference Two?” 

_“Aye, sir. Scott out.”_

Jim put the communicator away, opening the door and indicating that everyone precede him into the room. Spock was the first, securing the two chairs at the head of the table. It was a strategy that he and Spock often employed, giving them time to assess social dynamics and alliances. He waited at the door until Scotty marched down the hall, entering and taking a seat next to McCoy. Entering the room, the Captain paced to his seat, taking it at the same time as Spock. Sarek and Selek remained silent, seated the closest to the top ranking Starfleet officers. 

There was a space of silence. Jim reached over to a PADD to begin pulling up the scans the Enterprise had given them. The momentary peace was broken by a sharp voice. 

“Why did you not rescue more of us? Was your technology not enough? Could you not have used the cargo transporter? It was an illogical waste of time to lock onto individual signatures.” 

Scotty was turning the color of his shirt. 

Jim held his hand up. “T’Pring, I understand that you are upset—” 

“I am Vulcan.” 

“Vulcans get upset,” Jim said confidently. 

“Your experience with half-breeds do not count.” 

“Okay, that’s _enough_ out of you,” he growled, leaning forward. “Spock’s genetic status is _not_ on the table for discussion, do you understand me? This is not about _him_ ; this is about what just happened to your ship.” Sitting back, he indicated Sarek. “Besides. I’ve seen Sarek upset. _I was at Va’Pak_ , and the Vulcans that the Enterprise was able to save were _upset_. Being 'upset' is not an emotion; it is a state of existence. But being _upset_ can be expressed as the _emotions_ of anger or sadness. Moving on. Commander Spock, if you would be so kind.” 

Nodding, pulling up his own scans. “Your vessel sent out an emergency transmission with false information. It reported that your warp core had been ejected, and your impulse engines were nonfunctional. When in fact, neither was the case. Upon our arrival, we executed several scans; it was evident that the impulse engines were overheating internally, preparing to fire with the exterior hatches sealed. The resulting combustion triggered the still-intact warp core into detonation, which was indicated by the unique color and energy spectrums scanned and recorded of the explosion.” He looked at Stonn, whose face was framed in a frown. “We have since retrieved the passenger register. None of the individuals listed were on any terrorist or governmental watch lists for hacking or espionage.” 

Stonn nodded. “It was as I had surmised, Commander.” He sighed. “Which leads us to the possibility of outside interference at the port.” 

“Indeed.” 

Scotty had settled himself enough to begin contributing to the conversation. “Th’ interference of th’ fluctuating warp core prevented accurate locks on anythin’ but the tags that ye wore. Cargo transporters would’ve taken too long teh boot an’ configure f’r living passengers. Which is why, missie, that we were only able ta lock on ta ye five, as the _logical_ individuals of importance. Though, God help me, I dinnae why ye were counted.” 

“Scotty,” Jim rebuked. 

“Apologies, sair.” 

Elder Pekev spoke instead of anyone else. “I am grateful for your ability to even save five of us, Captain Kirk.” 

Not knowing what to say to that, Jim bowed his head, clasping his hands before him on the table. Gathering himself, he asked, “Where were you coming from?” 

“Outpost Nine; _reldai_ Saavik’s time is quickly approaching, and the couples she had been carrying for wished for their infants to be born on the new colony.” The Elder nodded to Sarek, who looked down, then over to the young woman, her wild mop of curly hair pulled back just enough to show pointed ears and the slashes of eyebrows. Pekev continued. “They were each the last of their clan, neither able to conceive naturally, and were relieved to be returning to New Vulcan.” 

Spock turned to look directly at the young woman. “ _Reldai_ , do you require privacy for the duration of your pregnancy until we have arrived?” 

“It would be preferable, as I am finding my ability to meditate increasingly more difficult to maintain.” Her voice was smooth, gentle as honey and accent rounded over the Standard syllables instead of Vulcan-precise. Jim was intrigued by this. She continued. “I have few needs outside of privacy and specific dietary and nutritional needs.” 

“Understood. Your room will be ready by the time we have completed this meeting.” 

T’Pring seethed. Emotionlessly, of course. “Of course you would offer Saavik superior accommodations, and not the Lady of a Clan.” 

Selek openly chuckled, startling most of the people sitting at the table while he shook his head. “Lady T’Pring, if you have not yet noticed, this is a _science_ vessel, not a _diplomatic_ model. Traditionally, we have always honored those who carry children, giving preference due to their biological need to keep their private territory sacred to but a few close clan members. Besides, is not Elder Sarek a distinguished member of his own clan? He and I are with the other Ambassadors in a shared suite.” 

“But he is not the head, and as such—” 

“If I recall correctly, and correct me if I’m wrong, T’Pau is damn near immortal. If she were on this ship, I would _gladly_ give my quarters for her use,” Kirk cut her off, beginning to lose his patience with her pettiness. “But she is not, and as I’ve met her and spoken with her, I know that she would have refused the honor in order to be with the rest of her clan. As it is, we are tight on space since we have a full crew stationed on _my ship_. Quarters will be standard crew size in the suite you will share with Stonn and his family. Are you through with your temper tantrum, or do we have to see about sending you into a time-out?” 

“You insolent—” 

_“Kroykah!”_ Spock barked, standing and leaning his hands on the conference table. His voice did not raise beyond a conversational level as he spoke quickly in Vuhlkansu. His words, measured and paced perfectly, caused no few eyebrows to raise among the Vulcans. Jim glanced at Sarek, whose gaze was even, but there was a hint of pride there. It was good to see the man proud of his son. 

T'Pring sat straight and turned to stare away from everyone else from the table. Bones was grinning at Spock and his _clearly_ non-emotional rebuke. Elder T’Karik nodded at the Commander, while Saavik shared a long look with Sarek. Spock gathered himself and continued in Standard. “It would be wise to continue this tomorrow, Captain.” He slid back into his seat. 

“Noted. Officers, please remain.” Pulling up a communications request on the conference table, he leaned close. “Hendorff, report to Med Conference Two.” Waiting for the affirmative, he switched channels. “Rand, send four Yeomen to Med Conference Two to assist the survivors to their quarters and settle in.” With her affirmative, Jim sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, jovial and friendly tone lost. “So let’s get something straight here. T’Pring, you aren’t nobility on my ship. You’re a passenger, and one of five survivors. And in fact, your health was checked over by one of the few humans who has been granted free license to study Vulcan biology and anatomy. So . . . if he says that you’re in good health and we should prioritize _reldai_ Saavik’s care? I’m going to follow his suggestion.” 

He sat back as Hendorff walked into the conference room, perfectly professional and blank. “Sir.” 

“I’m going to need you to stay for a meeting. These are the five survivors and now are our guests; please make your team aware of their presence once we are adjourned.” 

“Yes, Captain.” 

The Yeomen must have been in their lounge, not far from Medical. Once they showed up, the first took T’Pring. The moment she was out of the room, Stonn stood and rubbed at his face, a show of emotion that had Spock outright _staring_. “Commander, I must apologize for T’Pring. She is . . . was . . . someone of importance to me. I am not capable of giving her what she has desired, and I do know that she is emotionally compromised because of that fact. We were returning to New Vulcan to have our Bond dissolved in order to find new mates. I . . . I find myself feeling regret over my treatment of you as children.” 

“Stonn, would you prefer to speak in private?” Spock was taken aback by the soft, controlled voice of his childhood bully, responding with compassion and honor. 

“I would much rather speak about this before your peers and your father. My adolescent words and actions were cruel and cowardly, attempting and succeeding in eliciting an emotional response. The Lady Amanda was a gracious woman, and her work has broadened the Federation’s horizons and has given the Vulcan people much to consider with her contributions to our cultural and universal society. Her guidance in your life has clearly gifted you with the open mind that Vulcans so often claim to have, yet secretly do not.” Stonn paused, clearly fighting with himself. “And I prided myself as being purely Vulcan and able to contribute to the Vulcan way in the face of our differences. But it is not to be. I am impotent. And for that simple fact alone, T’Pring has shown me the cruelty that I had shown you. One simple difference in genetics, Spock, and we have been disregarded and degraded by our peers. I do not understand how you endured our narrow-minded words and actions for so many years.” 

Jim dragged his eyes away from the interaction to see Sarek with his eyes closed, and his hands steepled before his mouth. He turned back to Spock, who closed his eyes slowly, releasing a breath. “Stonn, I have forgiven you long ago.” Brown human eyes opened and made contact with black Vulcan ones. “I extend the invitation to speak privately at a later time; I feel there is much we must discuss.” 

“I humbly accept. I feel it is past due for mutual enlightenment.” He raised the ta’al, turned, and followed the Yeoman out. The rescued Ambassadors followed the third Yeoman out. The fourth left without Saavik after Spock dismissed them. 

Saavik looked down the table at Spock. “Thank you for rescuing us, Spock.” She seemed to shake herself a little, losing the standard Vulcan stiffness. “I’m not kicking you out of your bunk, am I? Because if I have to endure one more damned night with that _bitch_ , I’m going to fucking explode. Or go into labor and scandalize her pissy highness with the necessities of childbirth.” 

Bones _gaped_. 

Jim blinked. 

Scotty’s mouth dropped open. 

And then Saavik grinned. 

Spock barely kept himself from snorting in true amusement. “You never fail to impress me with your restraint, Saavik. Yes, you are taking my quarters, which I will not begrudge you for.” He let his eyes crinkle with a Vulcan smile, turning to his dumbstruck Captain. “Jim, Saavik is my adopted sister.” 

“And as humans say, she takes after Amanda,” Sarek deadpanned, standing to help the young woman out of her seat and up the table beside him. 

The rest of the officers, sensing that this was going to be less formal of a meeting, shifted closer to Jim’s end of the table as well. Saavik smiled openly, clearly having put on a front for the rest of the Vulcans. "Uncle Selek, it's good to see you again." 

"The pleasure is mine, Saavik." 

"I should explain, shouldn't I?" She looked to Spock, who raised a hand palm-up, indicating that the choice was hers. So she continued. "I'm half Romulan. And just like Spock, I have a bit of a harder time following the strict Vulcan way. I stopped trying so hard while in private, making sure to be as Vulcan as possible in public so as to not shame the family and clan who took me in." 

"And you're not having trouble carrying the full-Vulcan twins?" 

"We're two branches of the same genetic family, Vulcans and Romulans. Biologically similar enough that my parents had no trouble accidentally conceiving me. And the diversity of antibodies in my bloodstream will help make the twins stronger for the diverse environment on New Vulcan." She sighed. "Samekh, you understand the politics of New Vulcan better than I do; will there be outcry or battles over who these two will be adopted by?" 

Jim bit the inside of his lip. Now was _not_ the time to admit how much he wanted to start a family. Joanna McCoy was his surrogate niece, and then Sulu's Demora outright gave him baby fever when she was born while the Enterprise was being refit for her five-year mission. Ben and Hikaru had invited Jim to visit within days of her birth. Her surrogate mother, Kikyo, was still resting from the labor and grateful to breastfeed and nanny Baby Demora as the little one grew. She remained an integral part of their lives, as the husbands wanted Demora to know her birth-mother as she grew up. Kikyo had smiled openly at seeing this young-but-already-legendary Starfleet captain known for his combat skills and unorthodox strategies sitting in a rocking chair, smitten with the baby girl. 

The captain fiddled with a stylus while Sarek pulled together an answer. "The two parents should have a clause written in their living will in regards to their unborn. We will see what they had decided, and decide upon a plan of action from there. I will request the information as soon as we are adjourned here. If there is no clause, and as I understand you do not wish to raise the children, we can speak with T'Pau and other clan members to discuss adoption options." 

Saavik nodded her assent. "That is agreeable." 

"And if no potential adoptive families step forward, I would not be adverse to fostering the infants for a time," Selek added, folding his hands upon the table. 

"Old man, I don't think you'd be up for feeding twins every few hours," McCoy teased, leaning around to grin impishly at the Elder. "Statistically speaking, twins are _rarely_ on the same feeding and sleeping schedule." 

Selek raised an eyebrow and sniffed in mocking disdain. 

Jim muffled his laugh against a hand. "Gentlemen, we're not in a pissing contest over who is more capable. No need to try to out-daddy each other before there's even infants to fuss over." 

"Speaking of fussing over," McCoy grinned, "I'm shocked that _you_ haven't spoken up yet. I saw you with Demora. You were _smitten_ and you were over at the Sulu’s. _And_ I know how you are with my Jojo. Someone’s getting’ ready to settle down!" 

"Bones, drop it." 

"Nope! You want babies. Saavik, I'll have his adoption application in tonight." 

"First off, I'm pretty sure I'd have to be a Vulcan citizen to adopt any Vulcan babies, and second off, I've already got four hundred children to keep in line as it is. I run a daycare called _Enterprise_." 

Hendorff guffawed, leaning an elbow on the table. "We take care of ourselves just fine on our own, Princess." 

"Cupcake, you wanna go another round?" 

"Naw, save those pretty hands for feeding babies." 

"I fucking swear to God—" 

Sarek interrupted the tirade. "You are also incorrect about your status as a Vulcan citizen, Captain. Due to your actions three years ago, you were listed on our census as out-Clan, but honored member of our society." 

Saavik's gaze was sharp, holding a calculating light that instantly made Jim nervous. He would refuse to the end of his days that this young woman made him squirm in his seat like a misbehaving toddler. She let one corner of her lips twitch upwards in a grin. "You would raise unorthodox Vulcans who would challenge the traditional form of Surak's Teachings at every corner, but follow the most important edicts. I approve. Doctor, please make sure to handle his application process for the twins as a set. I would hate to separate them after all their time together." 

"What?! Oh for God's sake. Meeting adjourned; sorry to drag everyone out. We'll meet tomorrow at ten-hundred. Saavik, you must have tormented Spock to no end as children." 

"Delightfully so." 

"And with great vigor until she continued her training outside of Shi'Kahr." Spock rose, catching his father's gesture. "Father?" 

"I would dine with you and Saavik tomorrow night. I understand you have your duties to attend to on the Bridge." 

"It would be my honor, though I am unsure of where I will be spending my duty shift. It will depend upon what needs arise." Spock walked around to his adopted sister, Jim taking her other side with a wink. She grinned openly before closing her eyes and drawing in a breath. Releasing it slowly, her face fell into the carefully-impassive mask of any Vulcan. 

McCoy indicated the young woman. "I'd like to see you tomorrow morning for another check-up and a more thorough prenatal examination. I’ll have the equipment properly calibrated for half-Romulan, instead of full Vulcan; there’s a couple differences, as I’m sure you know." 

"Affirmative," she murmured with a slight nod. “I appreciate your diligence, Doctor.” 

And in what felt to be a handful of breaths later, they were in front of Spock's door.


	5. chapter five

Jim began moving a few things around in his own quarters to make space for his temporary roommate while Spock settled his sister in. And the absurdity of what had just happened finally hit. They had saved five Vulcans out of a roster of twenty-three. One was Spock’s little sister. One was Spock’s ex-fiancé. One was Spock’s childhood bully, currently engaged (proto-bonded?) with Spock’s ex-fiancé and looking to turn over a new leaf with Spock. Two were Elders connected to the former bully.

Something wasn’t adding up. There were too many connections to Spock, or Spock’s clan for that matter, for the attack to be entirely random.

The man himself carried in a few items for meditation and sleeping. Seeing Jim's expression, he set them down upon the desk and moved to stand beside his unnaturally-still captain. “Jim . . . ?”

“The attack had to have been planned. Somehow.”

“I concur. My father and counterpart also came to similar conclusions. Saavik will be carefully guarded while she is onboard, and will most likely be spending most of her time either in Medbay or my quarters."

“That’s where I would have wanted her to be, anyway. Chatted over the family bond at the end of the meeting?” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but wasn’t sure that he had succeeded.

"We have come to the theory that the Enterprise was meant to witness the ship's destruction after their databases had been downloaded into our own memory cores.” The bitterness clearly didn’t go unnoticed. “Jim, I did not mean to leave you out of the conversation, but as we do not yet share a bond, I wished to speak with you upon it in person at our earliest convenience.”

Jim clapped a hand to Spock’s shoulder. He turned to sit on the couch, which he had shoved just enough away from the bed to give it privacy for their sleeping situation. “Sorry. Human emotions don’t like being ‘left out’ of an important conversation, especially if it has to do with the security of our ship.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, twelve-year-old Jimmy Kirk is squeeing and giggling at the word “yet.”

“It is not an illogical response, Jim. And know that I do not and never will fault you for your emotions or your expression of them. You are fully human; to ask you to exhibit Vulcan traits would not only be illogical, but stifling to your exuberant personality.” Spock smoothly rested beside his lover, close enough to touch thighs if Jim relaxed. “And as we were easily the closest to rescue any passengers or crew-members, I agree that we find the timing of system failure concerning. I will check over the logs of other Starfleet ships in this sector with Ensign Chekov during Alpha shift tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Jim didn’t relax. Not yet. “We . . . we didn’t get a chance to finish our conversation.”

"Indeed we did not." Spock brushed two fingers along the back of Jim's hand, tracing the veins and feeling the soft ebb and flow of Jim's psi energy through the contact. He felt his lover tremble. "But it is late . . . and I believe that we will have the time we need tomorrow."

Jim wasn't expecting his reaction to the light touch. "And what would you prefer we do in the meantime?" He stood smoothly with a stretch to hide his confusion.

Spock followed suit, seeming to fill the space, the intensity of his gaze stilling Jim entirely.

"Spock?"

"When _was_ our first 'date,' Jim? Was it when you publicly challenged me to our first game of chess? Any of the away missions? Was it when you comforted me when Nyota and I ended our relationship?" He began taking steps forward, herding Jim towards the sleeping area. "Or perhaps," Spock purred, "it was any number of the insomniac nights we spent walking the corridors, assessing the rebuild after the Vengeance ripped our ship apart. Was it any of those nights where we meditated at each other's elbows, _katras_ so entirely at peace that I can no longer meditate to _any_ of the deeper levels without the heat of your body beside mine? When was it, Jim, when you and I truly began our relationship?"

"Uh . . . Hold up, Spock."

But he was backed against the wall separating the main living area and his sleeping alcove. And Spock lowered his head, pupils blown wide as he leaned in and drew in a deep breath along Jim's jawline. He smelled of natural human male musk, a light leathery cologne, and Vulcan spice tea. "When was it that I fell in love with you? Because I cannot tell. And yet you have always been drawn to me."

Jim groaned softly at the touch, the quiet growl. "L-love . . . Jesus, Spock . . . I . . ."

" _When_ was it, _ashayam_?" Spock pressed closer, possessive and protective around the man whose very soul cried out to his own.

"I've always loved you . . . I might not have _liked_ you all the time . . . but I've always loved you. Even when I didn't want to. Even when I was scared to."

"Why would you be scared of loving me?"

"Because it was too intense . . . I didn't know how to handle it. I've never loved anyone like I love you." Jim turned his face just enough to brush his cheek against his Vulcan's. "I was scared of how much I loved you. How much . . ." Swallowing thickly, Jim dropped his head against Spock's shoulder, gripping his lover's biceps. "Spock . . . I know you would have gone into the warp core. I couldn't . . . I couldn't see you die like that a second time. I loved you too much to see you die like that. I couldn't do it."

A _second_ time? Then . . . in another universe, their roles had been reversed. Spock wrapped his arms around his Captain, his friend, his brother . . . his lover. He gentled himself. Jim Kirk may put out on the first date with anyone else . . . but Spock knew that whatever this was between them was different. This was not a time for playful sexual relations, much as they would probably enjoy the release. His voice lowered. "May I see?"

Jim shook his head against Spock's shoulder. "I don't want to see it again."

"I can view the memory without projecting it back to you."

"It's . . . I can't. It's not even _me_ that saw it happen. It wasn't _us_. They . . . they were in their fifties before they finally admitted that they shared what we do. But I can't. His . . . he's . . . the memories I received . . . they’re too _raw_. Too much like me. Too much like _us_."

"Is this why you meditate? To separate yourself of the memories of another version of yourself?"

Jim nodded shakily, pulling his head back enough to look into the face he never wanted to be without another day in his life. "Yeah. But also, because since I have met you, I have never felt this centered. You complete me, Spock, in ways that I don't even comprehend yet."

Spock rested his forehead against Kirk's, black hair mingling in amid blonde. "I feel much the same way about you. But . . . you are correct; this is not the time to continue the conversation. I find myself in need of sleep, rather than meditation tonight."

"Meditate in the morning?"

"Yes. Do you wish to join me?"

"So long as I get six hours in."

"We shall see." Slowly, Spock drew Jim closer to the bed, hands guiding and curling loosely around Jim's elbows, leading him. He pulled the comforter back and sat the human on the bed, deft fingers massaging at tense shoulders. And it struck him . . . this was their first time sleeping beside one another. He knew that if he relocated to the couch, he would be joined before two hours had passed. Stilling his hands, he reached for the zipper along Kirk's neck and upper back, the new command design more form-fitting for showing off one's physique rather than allowing flexible, free movement. There was a little more protection woven in and biometric scanners set into the senior officers’ uniforms.

It was also harder to fit over thermal layers without odd bunching along joints.

He slowly, gently, drew the zipper down. He's seen his commanding officer naked. Several times. But to be the one to reduce him to near that stage? It stirred his blood. Spock tamped down on his pre-reform instincts to claim and ravish this perfect other half of his _katra_. He wanted to bring peace to Jim through pleasure, and it was a sensation he had never felt with Uhura. She had been soft and understanding of his Vulcan side. It felt hypocritical that she would encourage his Vulcan heritage while wishing to see his Human emotions. Lifting the hem of Jim’s command gold, he slowly unveiled skin slowly paling from the tawny tan.

And yet.

With Jim.

He didn’t ask for a Vulcan. Or a Human. He asked for _Spock_ , as he was, as he would continue evolving to becoming. He asked for everything.

Kneeling, Spock paused, hands on Jim’s hips, trying not to tremble with his need. He had to breathe. He had to control himself. Pressing his forehead against Jim’s left hip, he couldn’t help breathing in the scent that had become _home_ to him. Hands gently traced over his shoulders, through his hair, over the pointed tips of ears. And Jim’s voice was gravelly, filled with emotion. “Spock. You don’t have to. Let’s just sleep beside each other tonight.”

“I want you, Jim.”

“I want you, too, but . . . let’s take this slow, yeah?”

"No."

Jim couldn’t help it. He giggled. He giggled and curled around Spock’s head in his lap and stroked his hand through the silky black hair. “I ask you for ‘yes please let’s go slow’ not only for your sake, but for my own. I’m _tired_ , Spock. I’m tired and emotionally exhausted and I need sleep more than sex or making out right now. I need to be able to deal with your terror of a sister and bitch of an ex-fiance.” He grinned, knowing that the half-Vulcan would be able to feel his sudden burst of amusement. “I bet that Uhura is gonna have a _field day_ with this situation.”

“I concur.”

“Good. Then up you get. Let’s get settled for sleep. I know you meditate before bed, so I’m gonna brush my teeth while you set up.” Jim took Spock’s shoulders in his hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “Trust me. I want to explore your body as much as you clearly want to explore mine. But I’d like to do that when I’m not in danger of passing out and drooling on your abs.”

“I would still not be adverse to that predicament.”

“Sure. Then I’ll just drool on your shoulder when you come to bed.”

“Unsanitary.”

“Um. Have you actually _had_ sex?”

Spock’s eyes crinkled in a small smile, and he stood, helping Jim back up. His father was right; they were well-matched. He didn’t deny watching his Captain walk away, perfectly round ass filling his pants just the right way.

Oh, they were _so_ boned.

~*~

Saavik was grateful for her father’s premonition that she would not be able to settle into a deep sleep. The twins had behaved during her meditation, then woke up two hours after she had fallen into an exhausted slumber. The strong front that she continued to project was beginning to wear her down. It was no lie that she had need for privacy, as her emotions, though controlled, vacillated wildly from extreme to extreme. It was exhausting to be dragged from joy to frustration to sadness to giggles to grief to anger and back to joy again. She wanted a warm body to curl up against, with an open ear and a nonjudgmental attitude.

Thus, Sarek arrived an hour after she had awoken with datapads tucked under one arm and carrying a tea service with simple _kreyla_ for a possibly-upset stomach. “I have spoken with New Vulcan; they have forwarded not only the final living wills, but also the grieving clan's blessing that you will choose their heir's path wisely.”

She accepted the handle-less cup from the stern Vulcan, letting it warm her fingers. “Thank you. Have you looked at the wills?”

“No, as that is your right before it is mine.”

Sipping the tea and setting it down upon a low table to the side, she took one of the datapads, pulling up the first queued will. Scrolling to the part where she had been referenced in regards to being the surrogate for their child, she released her breath. “They . . . they were more than generous. ‘In the event of our premature death, _reldai_ S’chn T’gai Saavik holds sole decision for the placement of our child.’” She scrolled down further to the financial statements, skimming over them. “They have left a sizeable trust for the care and raising of their child.” The second will was skimmed through just as quickly. “I have to speak with the family of the M’fau V’las with my candidates for adopting their heir-child, but I hold the ability to veto any of their candidates, should any step forward. If I choose to adopt the child myself, I have the final say. If the S’chn T’gai clan wish to adopt the child, the M’fau V’las clan cannot challenge. Again, they have left another sizeable trust for their infant.” Setting the padd down, Saavik pinched at her nose. “I wish _ko-mekh_ were here to help with this, _sa-mekh_.”

Releasing a deep breath, Sarek murmured, “I as well, _ko-fu_.” He sipped at his tea, not letting himself or his own wishes to interfere with that of his daughter’s. “Amanda had a great aptitude for making decisions that involved the emotions of many people without offending the greater majority.”

“I feel that many Vulcans would object if I truly named Kirk as the father of one of the children. He is not connected in any official capacity to any clan, he is not bonded or even has a significant other, he is reportedly psi-null, and he has the prime responsibility of a starship and her mission.” Picking her tea back up, Saavik sighed. “And with what Selek has shown me of what had occurred in his original universe, it is difficult for me to _not_ want to give Jim a family. This is especially true after hearing what his crewmates have said about his tenancy to dote upon any children he encounters.”

Sarek took the time to give this the thought it warranted. Almost a half hour passed before he felt he had examined all evidence apparent to him as well as Spock’s revelations. “He sees the crew as closer than his biological family, every one of them. He makes the effort to know every name. Saavik, Kirk’s genius is geared towards this expression of tactics, strategy, and expression, inspiring his crew to follow his guidance. Very rarely has he shown immaturity after his graduation from Starfleet, especially once he allowed himself to settle into his place as leader and role-model.” Pouring a third cup of tea for himself and for Saavik, the ambassador finalized his assessment. “He is a logical, and indeed an optimal, candidate for adopting one of the _talukh kan-bu_.”

“I do not want them parted, _sa-mekh_. Their . . . their minds are so close, especially in the wake of the loss of their parental bonds.” Struggling to contain her emotions, Saavik closed her eyes and endeavored to focus inwards, upon heartbeat and breath, but to no avail. The twins were emotionally distressed, the threadlike bonds that had connected them to their parents remained wreathed in agony.

“I believe . . . that will not be as much of a problem as you would think.”

Raising her eyes, the young priestess felt hope for the first time in almost a full day.

~*~

He woke up warmer than he expected to.

Spock blinked in the dim-but-rising lighting of the Captain’s quarters, the light spectrum indicating a yellow sun. It caught on a tuft of hair that was not . . . oh.

Jim was half-lying over him from his right side, one leg thrown over both of his own, an arm curled around his ribcage. The human’s slower heartbeat thudded clearly against his own rapid pace. Spock sank back into the soft mattress, tugging the quilted comforter up over his left ear to attempt to warm that side up. He was aware of a piece of Jim’s anatomy pressing against his thigh, his own member sluggishly attempting to match.

The light increased, and Jim groaned, burrowing his face against Spock’s chest. The half-Vulcan was grateful that he had worn a thermal sleeping tunic and pants, otherwise, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to control every reaction his Captain and lover would inevitably drag from him with movements such as this. Even with one sensitive hand resting upon Kirk’s clothed side was enough to cause him an oddly discomforting tightness in his pelvic region that he had never experienced before. But, in a way to spite everything Vulcan about him, Spock curled Jim closer, pressing his nose against flaxen hair and breathing in the scent of _Jim_.

Unfortunately, that movement was to his undoing. His thigh had unintentionally increased pressure upon Jim’s morning hardness, which in turn caused the subconscious brain to click into gear. This lead to a soft gasp, a push back against Spock’s thigh to grind the sensitive glans against a ready pressure, and Jim’s swift awakening. They both froze, staring at each other in shock before a lascivious grin spread over handsome, golden features. “I could get used to a wake-up call like this.”

“I . . . I implore you not to tease me, Jim. The . . . ah, my actions were unintentional.” Spock could feel his face attempt to flush, but he viciously shunted away the blood flow to his superficial facial capillaries.

Jim only grinned, sleepy features making the expression almost lewd had it been seen anywhere _but_ in Jim’s bed. “Sure, Spock.” He shamelessly ground his hips against Spock’s leg again. “Or, you could _make_ the motion intentional.”

“Perhaps another morning, as we have 42.63 minutes until Alpha shift.”

Jim sighed, head dropping back down onto Spock’s shoulder. “Goddamnit.” Groaning, he gently untangled himself from Spock, sitting up and letting the covers slide down his back. He smiled unexpectedly, his hand brushing through Spock’s unruly bed-head. “Gorgeous.”

Heat rushed to Spock’s cheeks and ears, and he knew in that moment that he hadn’t been able to keep his blush from manifesting. If anything, Jim’s smile softened, fingertips careful of the _katra_ points as he stroked over one high cheekbone, tracing the olive blush over to the hairline. Before he could stop himself, Jim leaned in and kissed Spock’s forehead. Blushing scarlet, the Captain rushed into the bathroom before Spock could even say anything.

Releasing a deep breath, he touched his forehead where Kirk's lips had pressed. It was fascinating that Jim could be so incorrigibly lascivious, but get all shy after a soft press of lips against a non-sexual piece of skin.

A muffled yelp echoed out from the bathroom. The door opened, and Saavik calmly walked through, closing it behind her over the sounds of Kirk grouching about knocking first and not wanting “Spock’s little sister” to “see my junk.” Through the familial bond, Spock knew what his sister wanted, craved, needed; he knew what she wouldn’t be able to get from their father. She crawled into Jim's bed, awkwardly curling herself into Spock's embrace. Jim stomped out of the bathroom, only to stop short at the sight. Sighing, he padded softly the rest of the way over, and slid into bed behind Saavik. "Hey. I'm sorry for yelling. I'm not always a morning person."

"'S okay," she muttered, eyes still pressed shut against Spock's chest. "I miss _ko-mekh_."

"I . . . miss her as well."

"She would know what to do with the twins, how to best navigate the politics of adoption with a mother's touch." Saavik relaxed, her consciousness gently touching the two unborn minds. They were finally slowing down into sleep patterns. "Spock . . . do you remember your time in the womb."

"Yes."

"Wait, really?" Jim lifted his head to look over the mess of curls.

"Aliens, Kirk," Saavik giggled, moods clearly taking swings from one end of the spectrum to another. It was a common trait in Vulcan females who were moving closer to giving birth. She felt him put his head back down on the pillow behind her. "We're not humans."

Spock asked, "What do you need to know?"

"Could you tell who your parents were? With the bonds?"

"It took some work to establish the bond with Mother, but once it was there, it was equally as strong as my parental bond with _sa-mekh_. My bond with her was weak until the moments after I was born." Spock frowned slightly. "You are concerned about the twins, Saavik. What troubles you?"

"Dammit. You're too perceptive." The _reldai_ sighed. " _Sa-mekh_ and I read the wills of the families early this morning, and I am weighted by their burden. One family didn't have any living relatives, and as such, entrusted me with the decision of who should raise their child. The other couple requested that I collaborate with their clan, unless S'chn T'gai claim the child as our own. But they indicated through Sarek that in this time of grief, they did not have any families willing to adopt the child. I don't know what to do. I'm deciding where these two will spend their lives, and that scares me, Spock. What if I make the wrong choice?"

Both men curled closer to the younger woman instinctively. Jim felt no sexual attraction to her, merely a platonic desire to comfort her. He could feel from the back of Spock's hand that rested against his sternum, even through the thin undershirt, that Spock felt a great deal of brotherly protection over Saavik as well. Maybe that was bleeding over, but it wasn’t something that he was going to feel negatively against. It must have been a very interesting childhood with Spock trying to be so Vulcan and Saavik giving up on the practice while in private.

"You desire a specific outcome. What can we do to assist you?"

"Jim doesn't know me."

"Jim," the human said with a smile, "will fight like hell to get you what you want because you're Spock's family. Doesn't matter if I know you or not; if Spock says that you need help, you're getting help. What future do you want for your twins?”

Black eyes closed, and Saavik curled closer to her brother. “I want you and Spock to raise them. I don’t want them to leave our family.”

“Saavik,” Jim whispered in awe, pressing his forehead against the back of her head. “Oh my God, that’s . . . that’s _huge_. There’s just one flaw; I’m not from your family.”

“Not yet.”

“Saavik,” Spock growled, a chastisement. 

She chuckled dryly. “Don’t tell me that the two of you aren’t lovers. _Sa-mekh_ has been listing every sign that you are both considering a permanent relationship with each other. And you two slept in the same bed last night. You might as well speak with T’Pau about a Bonding ceremony.”

Jim could feel the projected emotions from both half-Vulcans in varying degrees, spinning from affectionate frustration to smug amusement. So he leaned over Saavik and kissed Spock’s cheek, which quickly bloomed sage. “Well, give us a couple days to actually _talk_ about what we want out of our relationship, Saavik. It’s not like we’ve had the time to discuss our needs and our goals. Hell, we’ve kinda been thrown into the whole mix faster than I think either of us were ready for.”

“But . . . will you both adopt the twins?”

“We must discuss this between ourselves, little sister. _Without_ you in attendance, you menace.” Spock’s arms curled her closer, regardless of the growling, chastising tone. “Do we have permission to go over the wills for ourselves?”

“Yes. _Sa-mekh_ has a copy on his padd. He is looking into the legalities of adopting the first child as clan-raised, if not as an individual.” It had been an old practice from the pre-Surak days, adopting a found child and raising them between several clan members. Many of those children grew into being valuable advisors to their Clan Matriarch, often bonding into the ruling families.

Jim sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “Spock, we need to sit down with him and talk about more than just helping out the babies.”

“Indeed. Oh. Jim?”

“Hm?”

“We have ten-point-two minutes until Alpha shift starts.”

_“Fuck.”_

~*~

Spock was on the bridge two minutes late, due to Selek detaining Jim, who sent Spock ahead to sit in The Chair. Relieving the Gamma Lieutenant and taking a seat in the command chair, the Vulcan picked up the padd with the previous shift’s notes on it. They were two days out from New Vulcan, only a day behind their intended schedule. Very little would be missed in this time.

“Commander.”

Spock stood gracefully to face his former lover. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

“May I have a word?”

“Of course. Sulu, you have the conn.” Spock walked over to the Captain’s ready room, indicating that Uhura precede him. As soon as the door closed, he sighed. “I understand that you did not wish to serve on shift with me, and I am willing to work with your desires. The Captain was detained by the Vulcan Ambassadors, no doubt because of recent events. As soon as he has returned, I do have work to be done in the labs, and will send up a science officer to replace me.”

“That’s . . . Thank you, Spock.” She looked away, gripping the elbow of one arm behind her back with her other hand. “I know that we’re going to have to work at a friendship again. I _miss_ our friendship.”

“I as well.” He remained where he was, his voice lowering, “Please understand, I do not know what I may have done to offend you, or cause you to cease the romantic regard we shared. I do not want you to think that I blame you, or harbor any ill will towards you. You were a dear friend to me on Earth, and I continue to wish for nothing but your success and . . . happiness.”

Nyota’s face broke into a watery smile. “Oh, Spock. I know. I’m not . . . I’m not ready to talk about it yet, but . . . maybe soon.” Clearing her throat and looking away, she visibly composed herself before looking back. “I wanted to speak to you about your ex-bitch.”

He couldn’t help it, a smirk threatened to tug his entire mouth up. Pressing his lips together, knowing that Uhura was one of two people who could bring a rise to his amusement, he gestured for her to continue. With a wicked grin, knowing exactly what she was doing, the communications officer added, “She spent last night harassing my Gamma shift sweethearts, demanding that we send an instant communique through to New Vulcan and the High Council there. They’ve rightly told her that all outgoing messages are reviewed first by their commanding officer, _me_ , and that I would review them for priority status at the beginning of Alpha shift.”

Having composed himself during her report, Spock raised an eyebrow. “I assume that you have something of interest to relay to me.”

“Oh, do I _ever_. That soppy bitch has submitted accusations that would have a lesser crew put under review if she was the only Vulcan guest on board. She’s claimed negligence to her species’ needs, bigotry from the Captain himself, harassment from _your_ self, favoritism shown by the entire crew towards your priestess sister, numerous instance where crewmates have initiated any touch whatsoever (most of which I don’t believe), and a host of small complaints that have created a backlog in my outgoing-review queue.” Uhura paused for breath, then grinned. “And only one note from Saavik, which I have already passed along. It was a statement to both the Council and one of the families of the twins she’s carrying, stating that she will have families chosen for the infants by their birth. She estimated that her delivery would be five days away. Did Jim get a baby?”

Spock glanced away, then back at Uhura. “Not as of yet, though Saavik is insistent that he take one of the infants, I take the other, and we raise the twins together. I do not feel this is feasible, considering our duties aboard the _Enterprise_.” He didn’t know if he wanted to raise the topic that he and Jim were making the opening overtures of establishing a courtship with one another.

“That’s fair. Security’s a daycare, anyway.”

“So Jim has indicated.” He clasped his hands behind his back.

“Then why not your father? That’d be keeping the infants in the clan.” Uhura leaned her hip against the desk. It was almost as if they were professor and cadet again, the conversation moving easier the longer that it progressed.

“Father has taken a mate five months ago.”

“Oh, Spock. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Apologies or expression of your sorrow at his marital state is unnecessary, Lieutenant. The situation is not as you may perceive,” the Commander replied, his gaze open and gentle, though a light blush spilled over the tips of his ears. “You know of . . . of the _Time_. He needed a mate. Thankfully, the female who was willing to help him survive has known me since my birth. She and I spoke in the hours before it became expedient that she join him, ascertaining that I would not feel slighted in her place at my father’s side against the memory of my mother.”

Uhura frowned. “That’s not very Vulcan-like. Most would ignore the emotional needs in favor of the hard logic that Sarek is irreplaceable, especially now.”

“Indeed. It is not customary for her inquiry, and for good reason.” He smiled openly with his eyes. “She is half-Vulcan, half-human. As you know, I am not the first hybrid, simply the first using new genetic techniques. Her personal experience and wise insight in my younger years assisted me greatly in understanding my dual natures.”

The door slid open, admitting a fuming Kirk. He closed it, eyeballed the two already in the room, and stated bluntly, “Oh, _gods_. I don’t have time for any post-relationship backbiting or arguing.”

“We were not conversing in either of those fashions, Captain.” Spock frowned. “What did Selek say that has affected you thus?”

“Spock. He’s _you_. He wouldn’t say something to upset me without helping me find my calm before sitting in the chair. It’s _that bitch_. She caught me after he was done warning me that she was on the warpath.”

Uhura threw her hands up, then sighed. “Okay, that’s _it_. Captain, I’m sending a replacement up for Alpha shift, and I’m going to spend the day just making her life _hell. Nobody_ pisses my men off for no goddamned reason. Spock, did you have anything else to say about your dad’s wife that was relevant to our conversation?”

“Yes; if he adopted the twins, he would be attempting to handle quintuplets. He found raising me to be difficult enough a single birth.”

“Oh, _fuck no_. Yeah. He’d implode. Kirk, can you do me a _huge_ favor?”

“Will it involve you getting in over your head?”

“Yes. Can you assign me to the Vulcans?”

“Oh God yes. Also, keep an eye out for Stonn.”

Uhura narrowed her eyes. “In what way?”

“Easy, now. In making sure that he’s not being bullied by T’Pring. Saavik is holed up in Spock’s quarters if you need a break from hellraising.” He grinned and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “You’re an angel.”

“You know that’s bullshit, you’re welcome, and I’m not sure if I owe you or you owe me.”

“Lemme know tonight in the mess hall.”

“Deal.” Uhura looked up at Spock, smiled, and nodded. He returned the motion. Something had passed not simply between them, but also behind them. They might not be the friends that they once were, but they would get there.

Once the Communications officer had left, Jim tilted his head. “Everything okay?”

Taking a moment to assess himself, Spock nodded once. “I believe so.”

“Good. Did you want to talk about our relationship and potential babies or keep that until we can immediately sit down to lunch with your dad?”

“We have lunch with Sarek?”

“Yep. He almost insisted after I dealt with T'Pring.”

“Very well. It may take an hour of our time to discuss everything that we feel will be relevant to both topics.”

“I figured as much. Please block the time off on both our schedules. I’ll be hosting lunch in the Captain’s quarters, so we might as well talk there.”

Spock nodded, then, hesitantly, reached his arm out with two fingers extended. Jim looked puzzled, but readily mirrored Spock, not touching him out of respect for his need for personal space. Taking the final step, Spock touched the pads of his fingers to his lover’s, feeling the brush of such a powerful mind against his own. By the gasp, Jim had felt the same thing. “What is this?”

The Vulcan’s eyes smiled. “A kiss.”

“Hot _damn_.” Jim rushed in, pressing his lips against Spock’s in a rough motion, curling his fingers and drawing a soft moan from the Vulcan at the pressure and friction. Pulling back just enough to breathe over flushed lips, he whispered, “Sensitive hands? Oh my God, I’m gonna have fun making you _come_ just by playing with them, kissing them, biting and nibbling and massaging—”

“Jiiiiim,” Spock hissed, head tipping back and exposing a long line of neck that the human eyed hungrily. “Not—not on duty.”

“Tonight. I’m locking the doors.” He drew back with one final, gentle kiss, releasing Spock’s hand in the process and buttoning up his own lust for the lanky man. “I’m soundproofing my quarters. And I’m gonna make you feel _so_ damn good.” Reaching up, he straightened Spock's hair, luxuriating in the silken fall. “I’m gonna wreck you.”

"I hope to achieve the same goals with you." Spock hesitated, then leaned in and slowly brushed the tip of his nose back and forth against Jim's.

The blond smiled and closed his eyes, the simple affection blooming warmly in his chest. Yeah. They'd have fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Kanbu = Baby(s)  
> Ko-fu = Daughter  
> Ko-mekh = Mother  
> Reldai = Priestess  
> Sa-fu = Son  
> Sa-mekh = Father  
> Talukh = Cherished
> 
> If I've forgotten any, please let me know so that I can fix them. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, loves!


	6. chapter six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I got stuck trying to figure out where I wanted to go with this chapter, and how I wanted to progress the plot. Enjoy!

With Sulu in The Chair, Jim and Spock left for their discussion. They knew that they'd have to keep their hands entirely off each other until that night, otherwise there'd be no talking done. While the two men strode towards the Captain's quarters, they traded ideas back and forth about demanding shore leave from the Admiralty for their stunt on cutting their earlier one short. Once the doors closed, Jim automatically moved to the kitchenette and began heating water without breaking the speed of the conversation. Replicated tea and coffee was utter shit, making something vaguely drinkable into something that had to be tossed back simply for the caffeine. The tone of their conversation shifted slightly as they left Captain and Commander outside the doors, Jim starting to ease their way into more personal topics.

"So, say we get leave on an environmentally diverse planet . . . Would you be averse to going on a hiking trip with me?" He rested his butt against the counter, folding his arms over his chest and crossing one ankle over the other.

"Am I correct in assuming it would be a private excursion?"

"You would be."

"In that case, I would find it quite satisfying to spend that time at your side."

Jim blushed slightly, clearing his throat. "So, what do we want to do about _us_ , Spock? I know that you'll need a mate at some point—"

"How—"

"Selek, mind-meld, Delta Vega, moving along." He waved his hand in dismissal, moving away from the counter. "We'll address it when it becomes relevant. Do—"

"I believe that it is relevant _now_ , Jim. I—"

He was cut off by Jim's hands gripping his elbows, then sliding up to curl around his biceps. Jim's voice was low, earnest. "Okay. Okay, Spock. Listen. I'm not afraid of you losing control." He blushed slightly. "And I know that there'll be need for me to be submissive to appease the pre-reform warrior that I know still lives in you. It's not going to be a problem for me. I won't challenge you." His blush spread down his neck, and his voice lowered in embarrassment. "I . . . _like_ not having to be in control . . . sometimes."

Spock's hands trembled, before he raised them to rest on Jim's hips, "Jim . . . you honor me, and I am humbled by your trust." Sighing, the half-Vulcan nodded. "I believe you. There is more to the ordeal than simply persevering through it, but I will ensure your education before that point. I . . ." Spock swallowed, hands shaking before he steeled himself and asked, "This is no small commitment, Jim. And the only form of culturally-acceptable divorce is if one of the parties was going to become a priest or priestess in service of purging emotion in favor of logic and-or maintaining the _katras_ of those who have gone before. I do not desire either outcome." He watched the expressive face carefully. "This is for life. And if we adopt the twins, it may be even be a commitment beyond our physical lives."

Jim didn't question the phrase, and Spock had a feeling that there was far more than what Jim had been letting on about in regards to what his counterpart had (most likely) unintentionally revealed in the mind-meld. But the human leaned in, his face serious and earnest. "Spock, I've loved you for years. I've dreamt on my own, and have dreamt of the lives of our counterparts. When you were with Uhura, all I wanted was you to be in my life in whatever capacity you would give me. If all you would be was a close friend, I would have settled for that."

Spock saw a hint of panic, carefully smothered, enter Jim's gaze as he continued, "All I ask is that you don't leave me. Not without warning, not without a reason. I _love_ you, Spock. I _want_ you. I . . . I _need_ you. In all and any of the ways that I can have you."

Spock was silent for a few human heartbeats before whispering, "If thee would have me, James Tiberius Kirk, I would trust thee with my mind, my _katra_ , my soul. I would bond with thee, in prosperity and in poverty, with long life and beyond death."

Silent tears traced Jim's cheeks, and his voice was gravelly with emotion. "I would have you. I _will_ have you." He reached up and cupped Spock's jaw between his palms, careful of the meld points. "I will bond with you in the manner of your people." He sniffed, trying to keep his voice level, but knowing he was failing miserably. "Will you marry me in the manner of my people as well, S'chn T'gai Spock?"

"Yes," Spock breathed, bowing his head forward until they met in the middle, feeling his eyes sting. "I lost you once before . . . I will not lose you again, my beloved."

~*~

When Sarek was given permission to enter the Captain's quarters, he was not surprised to see the pair looking slightly disheveled, lips slightly swollen, and high color in their cheeks. He raised an eyebrow. "I take it that a decision about your personal lives has been made."

"Yes, father."

"Favorable?"

Jim blushed, breaking eye contact, and Sarek felt a smile tug at his lips, clearly shocking his son at his emotionalism. "Then I suppose that congratulations are in order, my sons. James." When the blue eyes met his Vulcan-dark ones, Sarek continued. "I welcome thee to my house and clan. When your feet and soul are weary of the journey, may you find rest at our hearth. I am honored by my son's choice in his life-mate."

"Th-thank you, sir." Jim was still blushing profusely, unable to hide the happiness at the genuine welcome. "Should . . . Is there something specific that I have to say in return?"

"Mere ritual, which is simply covered by your genuine appreciation of the offer of shelter. May I serve lunch, Captain?"

Knowing that it would bring the older Vulcan satisfaction, Jim nodded, letting himself be shooed towards the table by his father-in-law-to-be. When he sat, he felt Spock take the seat beside him, legs touching at the knee. It softened something deep in his heart that he had locked away for so long. Before too long, they were sitting around a meal in a comfortable silence. It was during the tea following the meal that the conversation picked up again, with Sarek cutting right to the heart of the matter.

"It is my hope that you are not formalizing your relationship only for the benefit of Saavik's situation." He turned, looking over his shoulder at his sons, one eyebrow raised neutrally.

But their firm expressions reassured him, even as Jim spoke. “Sarek, there’s no chance in _hell_ that I could be pressured into a relationship. Hell, ask McCoy; he’s threatened to diagnose me with gamophobia, but says that it’s countered by my commitment to him as the brother I’ve never really had and my commitment to my ship and crew.” He paused, turning the teacup between his hands as he thought through his next statement. “I admit that I am a little wary of the responsibilities of becoming a father and balancing that with my duties to Starfleet. I haven’t had any great role models until Pike took my sorry ass under his wing and schooled me, you know.”

“Do you find yourself apprehensive at the prospect of raising infants?”

Jim’s wry grin faltered, and he cleared his throat. “No, sir. No, I . . . I have extensive experience with children of all ages. I just don’t want to fail these kids, and, well, shit, they’re not even _born_ yet.”

Sarek made a noise of assent, looking into his tea before drawing in a breath, carefully not looking at his son. “It is every parent’s fear that they will fail their children. And it is truly an experience in heartbreak when they realize that they have. Every parent fails their child in some way. And though the child may feel betrayed, may feel great anger at the failure, it is a test of how you and Spock will have raised these two for how they respond to your imperfection.” Swallowing and looking down, slanted and gunmetal-grey brows drew together in a frown. “Amanda, in her great wisdom, raised a child who knew the power of forgiveness, without allowing others to ‘use him as a doormat,’ as the phrase goes. It was her compassion, and her human emotions and ways of thinking that have given my people one of the greatest Vulcans in his generation, and possibly my own. He is far more flexible than his peers, truly living our guideline of infinite diversity in infinite combinations. I am . . . a very proud father.”

Spock was trembling, his eyes closed and head bowed to try to shield the fall of tears from his human eyes from his father’s gaze. Jim was not unaffected, his voice low and gravelly with emotion. “I’m . . . I’m truly honored by the friendship that Spock has gifted me with. And I’m grateful that you and he have worked hard on rebuilding your relationship. You’ve helped shape him, too, Sarek. You’ve given me the best goddamn First Officer in the ’fleet, and the best friend and soulmate I could have only dreamed of.” Jim sniffed, scrubbing at his nose with his palm before sighing and looking to his . . . his significant other.

Spock had put a hand up to cover his eyes. His voice was low when he spoke. “Forgive m—”

_“Spo’k’hat’n’dlawa,”_ Sarek whispered, startling his son with the full form of his given name, the Vulcan secondary larynx engaged to give the whistles and bass dips that indicated the emotions associated with the name. Jim caught most of the tones, not knowing what he was listening to.

Spock looked up, tears freely flowing by now, trying not to feel shame that his father would witness this emotionalism. Kirk blinked at the expression on his lover’s face. Whatever Sarek had said had impacted him much harder than the Standard words he had expressed before. 

“Spock, you are a man of two worlds, bridging a canyon that I have attempted to cross over the course of my life and through my duties as ambassador. I cannot, and _will_ not, deny you the expression of the emotions you experience.” He sighed. “I was in error when I spoke to you as a child, indicating that you had two paths to choose from. Though my words were chosen to reflect Vulcan logic, I was remiss in not factoring in human logic and emotions, which you also possess and have great comprehension of and control over.”

Spock wondered if his father knew of the words that his mother had spoken before he went before the VSA council of elders. Green bloodshot eyes dropped to the table before he drew a breath in and sat straight again. “Thank you, _samekh_. I am honored by your regard.”

Sarek nodded once, standing and preparing to leave. “You have made a wise choice in your bondmate, _sa-fu_. Our house and clan are honored to welcome him when the Time comes. I must take my leave of you, but do not hesitate to call upon me if I am needed.”

He left swiftly, and Jim moved as soon as the door closed, enveloping Spock in his arms. Hot tears splashed against his neck, soaking the material at his shoulder. After long moments of soothing the half-Vulcan, Jim asked, “That word in _Vuhlkansu_ , what was it?”

“My name.”

“It wasn’t the Standardized Vulcan language.”

“No, Jim.” He drew in a shaky breath, still trying to center himself. He found that one of his hands had moved under Jim’s shirt to rest against a firm, warm side. “Vulcans claim to have logic over our emotions . . . You know this to be a clever misdirection of the truth. Our language is firm but without specific intonations, level unless when giving orders. The second larynx engages to add specific verbal emotional cues.”

Jim brushed Spock’s hair away from his forehead, kissing the skin he revealed. “What did he really say to you, babe?”

“He called me his beloved son, regretting the pain he caused, and hoping desperately to rebuild so that our clan and our house ways may not die out. Father knows the damage he caused to our relationship . . . and I am all that he has left of the woman he loved dearly. I am overwhelmed by his love for me, after the many years I have spent wondering what I could have done to deserve his silence, his disapproval. I blamed myself for never being good enough, for never being the son he wanted, for . . . for never knowing if I was even _fertile_ , able to bring the next generation to our house—”

“Spock,” Jim interrupted, cupping the green-flushed cheek and angling the elegant face up to meet his gaze. “I know. I felt the same way, only . . . I know that I can never live up to being George Kirk, the hero of the Kelvin Incident. I’ll never have my father’s approval, or love, or hear his voice. And I’ve had to come to terms with that.” He kissed the strong nose. “You do have the chance to make things right with your dad, and I want him to be part of our lives and the lives of the babies.”

Spock nodded, dropping his gaze, clearly exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster that he had finally stepped off of. “Thank you, Jim.”

“Of course, babe.” Kirk cupped the back of Spock’s neck, holding him to his shoulder. “I’m excusing you from duties for the rest of the day; I know that you need to meditate. Are you okay if I send Bones in here to check in on you?”

“I . . . would appreciate his attention. I feel that I am in need of certain minerals that cannot be delivered via replicator.”

“Cried yourself into losing your electrolytes, eh?” The human smiled, knowing that he had minutes before he had to return to duty. “You rest up and meditate, my love. I’ll be back when Alpha’s over.”

Their luck wouldn’t hold.

~*~

“Fucking _hell_ , Scotty, where’s our _fucking warp_?!” Kirk roared over the intercom. He was bleeding from a headwound and his left knee felt funny in the way that fucked-up joints often did after severe soft tissue damage.

The Romulan Warbird turned for a second pass.

_“Ay’m werkin’ on i’!”_ Scotty screamed back. _“It’s code, Kirk! Somethin’s fecked up th’ code!”_

“Chekov! Status!” Jim gripped the arms of his chair as Sulu dropped the ship faster than the artificial gravity could keep up, avoiding the next barrage of disruptor bolts.

The young Russian had been doing drills for just these types of maneuvers, and had propped himself in such a way that short of getting knocked out of his station, he had Sulu in his periphery, and could anticipate any motions while keeping himself and both weapons and navigation ready for the next order. Right now, though, weapons had been taken over by Officer Aisha Darwin, while Chekov was running through the warp codes one after another. “Ees like Hanzel and Gretel ran zhrough ze coding! I see trails but no source! Where ees backup code?!”

Spock, still in his meditation robes, dove under his station, pushing a panel in and to the side. “Captain, tell Mister Scott to purge all existing warp coding!”

“ _Jesus!_ That was too close, Sulu! Spock! How many versions behind is the backup?!” Jim asked over his shoulder, then grunted as the ship rattled and he was jostled hard enough against his seat that he felt something in his back pop. It was suddenly hard to breathe, and he fought down the nausea. He knew the feeling of a punctured lung, and this wasn’t it. “Darwin, fire when ready!”

“Yessir!” Her hands were flying over the controls, the course to Vulcan already programmed in.

Spock grunted at the impact, his voice urgent. “One! Backed up when we arrived at Earth!”

He grunted as he moved, and Jim glanced over his shoulder to see green blood staining the shoulder of the off-white robes fluttering in Spock’s dash to the turbolift with the harddrive tucked against his chest. They locked eyes, nodded once, and Jim looked forward again. The wounds weren’t fatal, some weren’t even serious. His headwound was starting to make him feel dizzy again, and he knew that he was going to have to ask for help getting to the Medbay. “Scotty! Purge the code!”

_“Are ye daft?!”_

“We have the hard backup on its way to you! Shit! Sulu!”

“On it! Hold onto something!”

Everyone found one firm handhold, Chekov dropped to the deck, wrapping himself around one of the posts of the railing surrounding the pilot and navigation stations from the science and communications stations. Kirk grit his teeth as the world spun around them, punctuated by shudders as Sulu did _something_ that he was _sure_ weren’t in the _Enterprise’s_ design specs. It did nothing to help his head, and he swallowed against the urge to retch. He looked forward just in time to see a six-salvo photon torpedo barrage rain down onto the first Warbird. The first two took out the shields, the second two ripped into the upper decks, and the third two dove deeper into the Warbird, ripping it apart from the inside.

Damn, but Darwin was a fucking genius.

Sulu yelled in glee. “Warp is up!”

“Get us _the fuck out of here_ , Sulu!”

“Gladly!”

The warning hum and ignition of his warp nacelles was the most beautiful sound Kirk could have ever imagined. He sagged in the chair. “Lower alert from red to amber, Giotto.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Bridge casualties?” he asked, looking around. The response was a chorus of bleeding wounds, sprains, strains, dislocations, bumps, and bruises. He looked at the screen on his chair, reading the tally from Engineering. Thankfully, when the red alert had sounded, it had been mostly engineering and senior crew that took the brunt of it. Non-essential personnel were standing by to be called into action, huddling in an area to keep themselves from being tossed around whatever open space that they could have been in.

When Sulu got creative with piloting, no matter how advanced the artificial gravity system, it just couldn’t keep up with his maneuvers.

Jim rubbed a hand over his face, wincing as it came away bloody. “Okay. I’m gonna need a shoulder to lean on to get down to Medical. Uhura?”

“I’m staying on shift.”

“You’re a goddess. Can you call Beta shift, B rotation on for bridge replacements?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.” Wincing, he stood and began limping towards the turbolift. Chekov and Sulu came up on either side, each of them wincing with their own pains but helping him along. Several others filed in after them, most of the officers taking up wallspace to lean against. Jim sighed. “Well, _that_ was a fucking cock-up.”

“I’m betting that T’Pring will have claimed that to be an intentional encounter on _our_ behalf,” Sulu grumbled.

Darwin continued to apply a pressure bandage around her shin. “I’m about to slap the _stupid_ out of her prissy head.”

“Get in line, but I’ll be happy to watch you take her down a few notches,” Jim grumbled. The load of officers stumbled out of the turbolift, limping their way towards the medbay. Spock was being helped along by an engineering ensign, one hand holding a bandage against his lower-left side. Jim sighed. At least it wasn’t near his heart. “Good work, Spock.”

The Vulcan grunted in return, and they were triaged. Jim looked around for M’Benga, knowing that the doctor usually treated Spock, rather than McCoy taking over the Vulcan’s care. Bones came rushing over to them first, directing the other doctors to the care of the priority cases. His hands were quick but thorough, running a commentary as he worked. “Jim, you have a concussion. I can’t do much about that for the next four hours, so don’t fall asleep. Spock, you’re damned lucky that gash is on your left side. Your shoulder will need physical therapy after I regenerate the ligaments that got sliced, and your ankle is sprained, but not severely. Jim—”

“Ow! Fuck _you_ , Bones!”

“—that was going to hurt. Your knee was dislocated, you’ve torn your ACL again and I’m about set to replace your goddamned meniscus because this is the seventh time it’s ruptured. Put a brace on it for now; come back tomorrow night to have more done on it. Stand up, arms out to either side.”

He did as he was directed. Bones continued, “As deep a breath as you can get in . . .” He wrapped his arms around his best friends’ torso. “Now force it out.” He tightened his arms as Jim blew his breath out, compressing his ribcage beyond the exhale with an audible pop and a wheezing whine from the Captain. “Dislocated rib is back in place. I’ll work with that tomorrow, too.” He finished up closing the wound on Jim’s face hurriedly.

“Bones, where’s the goddamn _fire_?” Jim asked, taking the knee brace and fitting it over his pant leg, securing it with a hiss.

McCoy froze. “You don’t _know_?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I knew!”

McCoy’s face broke into the happiest grin that Jim had seen in weeks. “Jim, Saavik’s gone into labor, and wants you and Spock in the room with her. She’s in the private suite.”

Jim scrabbled for a cane, not needing crutches, and propelled himself towards the private suite door, Spock directly at his left. They entered the waiting room, seeing Sarek and Selek settled in a half-meditation. Jim grinned at them as they opened their eyes to his and Spock’s entrance, limping up to the second door. He hesitated, looking up at Spock.

At a pained gasp from the other side, Jim and Spock hurried into the private room as fast as their hurting bodies could take them.


	7. chapter seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the time between posting Chapter Six and Chapter Seven, there have been many changes in my world. My father, who introduced me to science fiction by Star Trek, Star Wars, Michael Crichton's novels, and Firefly, died very suddenly from a heart attack on April 16th. I feel like part of my heart has been torn from my chest. It has been a very hard few months trying to come to terms with his death, which was almost four months to the day after my Grandmother, his mother, passed away. I will not be celebrating Christmas or Easter the way that I used to for a long time to come.
> 
> I lost most of the original version of this chapter around that time, and couldn't find a way to continue the story outside of the very emotional and heartwarming scene that I had written. Depression has been horrifically oppressive, but I don't want to go back onto SSRIs because the side effects were worse than the rotating numbness and pain that I feel. Writing hasn't been easy to do while struggling with my mental illnesses, but I'm doing what I can.
> 
> This chapter has not been edited very much, even though I have been struggling with it for several months. Please forgive any typos.

Saavik came out of the contraction crouched and warping one of the metal crossbars of a birthing frame. She panted, feeling her body betray her. A soft mental touch from her brother soothed her, and she lifted a hand to wave them closer. Spock didn’t touch her, but Jim hobbled closer to rest a hand on her clothed shoulder. She found her breathing pattern again, feeling the increased heat of the room soothing, but not everything that she was looking for. _“Eshikh aitlu nash-veh, Spokh.”_

He reached over and smoothed the hair away from her face. “We do not have a desert on a spacecraft, _ko-kai_. We can raise the heat of the room, though the humans may become uncomfortable. Do you need sand?”

“ _Rai._ ” She bowed her head again, almost hanging onto the birthing frame by her elbows to rest between contractions. Jim’s hand was soothing, his mind worried, but calm. He was a good human, and he would be good for Spock.

Jim looked to Spock, who translated. “Saavik feels a deep yearning to give birth in the desert. Though we are an advanced race, certain instinctual comforts are required by birthing mothers. And as males, we gladly offer any assistance to those who are bringing forth the next generation of our clans. Many times, our mothers have gone to the desert homes and hovels to give birth, more comfortable with the ancient ways than with modern technology.” He walked over to where M’Benga had been waiting with some water. “Doctors and Healers only intervene when there is a medical emergency with either the mother or child.”

“Which is why I’m standing back here, and will leave the room now that you two are here to help her,” the dark man said, his voice almost Vulcan-neutral. “I will be in the Medbay if I am needed.”

Saavik nodded, feeling the first child’s head shift again. The little minds wanted _out right now_ , not realizing that there was a process. Even as a Vulcan with control over her bodily functions, she could only go so fast. She let her head fall against the cool metal of the frame. She knew what this process had entailed, the ranges of what fell into “acceptable” timing for the birthing process.

She only wished that her body would move a little faster.

~*~

McCoy couldn’t help smiling at the sight before him. Three adults unconscious on two combined bio-beds, sleeping the healing rest of the physically-wounded. Two infants, small pointed ears poking out of their swaddling, unfolded by each of the new fathers in ritual of affirming their heritage as Vulcans. He had almost cried with Jim as the young man had unfolded one ear on each infant, Spock unfolding the other ear with suspiciously-shiny brown eyes. Saavik lay in the middle, one arm around each infant, with Spock to her right and Jim to her left, curled protectively around her. The CMO sighed, smiling with memories of his own daughter’s birth and the exhaustion that hit him afterwards. Both commanding officers had managed to keep eyes open until after Saavik had fallen asleep, but soft breathing rose only minutes later.

A swish of fabric and a shadow announced the arrival of one of his Vulcans. The possessive mental note made Leonard raise an eyebrow at himself before allowing his mind to keep the tag. He did like his Vulcans, as infuriatingly dry as they were. “Ambassador.”

Sarek nodded, hands held before him as he gazed upon his son, his daughter, and his son-to-be. While he and Saavik had family-bonded the infants to their fathers, there had been no time to establish the rudimentary betrothal bond between the two men before Jim had fallen into an exhausted slumber. “Doctor.”

“How far are we from New Vulcan?”

“We will be achieving standard orbit within the hour. My clan’s healers are ready to come onboard to verify the infants’ physical and mental health.” He took a step closer to the beds, dark eyes running over the lines of his daughter and . . . sons. His grandchildren. Sarek sighed, his shoulders dropping. Surak’s unbroken genetic line would end with his son. Perhaps that was not a bad thing after all. “But I wished to ask you of your opinion on my family’s physical and mental health, Doctor McCoy.”

Leonard stepped further into the room, not bothering to pick up a chart. “The boys are in rough physical state, but their mental _and emotional_ status is stable and good.”

Sarek turned to the friend of his dear son, lowering his voice. “You know that Vulcans—”

“Have emotions and control them, yeah, I know.” McCoy smiled crookedly to the older man. “Doesn’t mean that I don’t like pokin’ fun at Spock an’ ya because I know ya ain’t gonna take me seriously.”

“I see. You feel that I can be trusted as you trust Spock and James . . . as family.”

McCoy’s face froze, and he drew in a careful breath before releasing it shakily. Family was always a difficult subject for him to acknowledge. “Yeah.” He looked away, his cheeks pinking despite his best efforts. “Sorry if that offends you.”

“On the contrary, Leonard,” Sarek reached over and rested his hand upon the doctor’s shoulder. “It reassures me. You have their best interests at the forefront of your priorities. I could not ask for a more thorough family physician,” Sarek’s voice lowered, emotion coloring the tone enough that McCoy’s head snapped around, “or friend.”

The hazel eyes dropped after a moment of meeting the elder’s. “I’m . . . I’m really honored, sir.”

The hand slid free from the CMO’s shoulder. “Were you younger or Saavik a little older, I would have already asked you to contemplate bonding with her. You have complementary personalities, and I feel that her lack of adherence to Vulcan behaviors in private would suit your emotional needs in a partner.”

Leonard McCoy’s mouth dropped open as he stared at Spock’s father, who stood with perfectly unemotional features, but was that a _sparkle_ he saw in the Vulcan Elder’s eyes?

A sleepy chuckle turned him away to see Saavik shaking her head. “He’s teasing you. Mostly. But you’d be acceptable to me if he decides to arrange a marriage to you. I have no desire to remain celibate _or_ to become a _Kolinahr_ adept. Neither option suits my personality.”

“Oh, great. So I get it from both Spock, his father, _and_ you?” McCoy scoffed, trying to rebuild the tough country doctor façade again as he made his way closer to the bed. “An’ for the record, Sarek, I don’ _do_ quick betrothals or shotgun weddings. Didn’t do me any good the first time ’round.”

“Oh, and Carol has a crush on you,” Jim rasped. He’d never been a deep sleeper unless drugged, and he had felt Saavik move. “Hi, Sarek.”

“Good afternoon, James.”

McCoy sighed. “I’m not interested in Carol, Jim. She’s nice, but she’s not my type. _And_ she’s a weapons expert, and . . . that doesn’t sit right with my morals or ethics.” He reached over Jim to scan the closest Vulcan infant, surprised at seeing calm dark eyes watching his movements. He cooed at the little bundle, face melting into a smile. “Aw, damn it. Y’all’re cute babies. Any names yet?” He looked over at the other infant, but knew better than to reach over a sleeping Spock. He’d gotten bruises from the startled Vulcan, followed by days of apologies. Spock didn’t seem understand that McCoy was bruised by flailing patients on the regular. It was mostly getting startled that had jarred the CMO, since Spock was often so much of a pacifist.

“We’re thinking on a few. Should we have names before the Healers get here?” Jim asked, looking first at Saavik, then over to Sarek. Both shook their heads in reply. “Okay, cool.” He settled back, reaching a hand over to stroke his daughter’s crown.

“James . . .” Sarek paused, then, remembering Amanda’s tutelage, continued on. “Among the healers arriving are mind-healers to verify and inspect the bonds between the children and both you and Spock. One of them has already stated that they would be honored to establish the betrothal bond between yourself and Spock, if that is your wish.”

Blue eyes slowly raised to meet alien-dark ones, but Jim was silent as he processed this information. He was distracted by a pale hand that stroked his cheek. He lifted his head up enough to see Spock’s gaze focused on him. He couldn’t read Spock’s mind, but he could read his eyes. And he smiled softly. “I think that Spock and I would be honored and indebted to the healer who could give us their time.”

~*~

One week after the fifth-longest shift of his life, Leonard McCoy trudged through his door, dropping his PADD on the desk by the door. He blinked. The lights were already on. Slowly, he looked to his right with a sigh. “Saavik, ya _have_ to stop hiding in my quarters from the Council.”

“You won’t try make me talk to them, so I have decided that your quarters are the safest place to withdraw to.” She slouched further against the arm of his couch, eyes not coming off of the handheld strategy game she was playing. “ _Sa’mekh_ trusts you, and knows that you’ll cover for me.”

“Saavik,” McCoy groaned. He sighed. “I’m not going to make you talk to them. But this is the _fifth time_ I’ve had you hide in my quarters in _seven days_.” Moving closer, he tapped at her feet. When she moved them, he sat down and let her rest her legs over his own. “Start talkin’. I feel like I’m owed an explanation.”

“The Council wants me to bond with Torin.”

“They what?” Leonard turned to look at the woman, shaking his head. “Uh, no? It’s not their choice, darlin’. You’re unbonded, you’re an influential Vulcan female in your own right.”

“They’re pressuring _sa’mekh_ to offer my hand, because technically, he _has_ heirs. Torin is the last unbonded male of his clan and house, and there aren’t many women who would take him as a mate.”

“Why?”

Saavik shook her head. “Something happened on Vulcan-That-Was. I don’t know. He was almost exiled, like—” The _reldai_ , priestess, shook her head, clamping her mouth shut. Family laundry is not allowed to be aired to non-family. “Like so many others were before the Great Loss.”

McCoy let his head fall back against the couch eyes half-lidded. “What’s Sarek said?”

“To use a human expression, his hands are tied. They have stated that with my personal fertility and the proven ability to carry strong infants to term, it would be illogical for me to remain unbonded.”

“Fuck. Never mind that you don’t have any maternal instincts, and don’t want any kids of your own.”

“I’ll gladly babysit the two I have carried, but I’m not willing to become a broodmare for a man whose honor comes under question. I may decide to have children for myself one day, but that is not an immediate concern, considering how long I will be fertile.”

“That’s fair.” McCoy sighed. “Will they recognize a Federation marriage?”

“No. Otherwise, I would have asked for your help on this. You find me attractive in many ways, but do not wish to push at me or rush me, which I’ve stated before is a misguided attempt. I have not been in a relationship for several standard years.” She shoved the padd under his nose with a disgusted sound. “And to make things even _worse_ , they’ve given me an official court summons, which I received two standard hours ago, for an appointment tomorrow morning.”

“Well, that explains why you’re hiding in my quarters.” McCoy read the translation with a sigh. Saavik was mad enough that she wanted to pace, but her body was still demanding that she continue recuperating from birthing twins naturally. “Where’s your father?”

“On the planet! This is _bullshit_!” She reached for the padd.

McCoy tossed it onto another chair, well out of reach. “I didn’t see a read-receipt on that notice.”

“They’re cocky, and take it for granted that their words will be read as soon as it arrives into my inbox.”

“Y’ain’t goin’ alone.”

“You can’t come, Leonard! It’s not that easy! They will _not_ allow non-kin into a hearing regarding a bonding!”

“Why are they pushing this so hard? Don’t they have anything better to do?”

She growled. “No, they don’t. Everything is running smoothly, so now they have the ability to be petty assholes.”

McCoy lifted her legs off his thighs, resting them down upon the couch before kneeling on the floor, putting him beside Saavik’s torso. “Will they honor a betrothal-link?”

“It can be broken! I can be challenged for!”

“Saavik, _darlin’_ , I’m tryin’ t’ propose, an’ ya ain’t makin’ it easy for a backwater Georgia boy t’ get his point across.”

~*~

Jim was rudely awoken not by the mental shove that the twins used for getting changed nappies or a feeding. Rather, it was a more adult shove, full of emotions that he wasn’t that great at deciphering yet. The mind-healer had attempted to forge a betrothal bond, which went sideways almost as quickly as it had begun. Without much of a pause, Jim and Spock had been shoved into a full mating bond, determined solely upon their own minds and souls. It had an odd name beginning with a T, and whenever Spock called Jim by the name of the bond, it felt like he was sinking into the most comfortable, loving home anyone could have created for him.

“Spock?” Jim heaved himself out of their bed, stumbling with a yawn towards the living area. Spock stood trembling with anger before a very calm Leonard and Saavik. The implications hit home immediately, and the captain grinned. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission, Bones?”

“Captain Kirk, I formally request permission to bring my bondmate Saavik aboard.”

“Granted. Welcome aboard the _Enterprise_ , Saavik.” Jim looked to his spouse. “Spock?”

“Shower,” the XO grunted, turning away.

An infant grunted in their heads, and Spock sighed, turning towards the sleeping area instead, already crooning a soothing note of greeting. It was _not_ a purr, despite what Jim said. The blond man grinned and turned back to his CMO and bondmate. “Big brother is protective?”

“I heard that.”

“You were meant to, sweetheart.” Jim turned to a man he would easily call brother. “Bones?”

Leonard bit his lip, then sighed explosively. “We match each other really well, Jim. I didn’t expect _how_ well we were matched . . . and neither did Saavik.”

The younger Vulcan nodded twice. “It was unexpected, but I’m . . . I feel like I’ve found the missing piece in my life.”

The door chimed. Jim ordered it open to reveal Uhura and Stonn, who quickly walked in and seemed to stop in unison at seeing McCoy and Saavik.

Jim noticed their synchronized behaviors, having seen them in both his own relationship and his best friend’s behaviors as Bones stood before him.

Spock’s sleep-deprived groan echoed from their bedroom. “You have to be _fucking_ kidding me.”


End file.
